#... why am I getting deja vu from that last tag. has this happened before.

[a-eo-iu]

quick n vague sketch of what ymumy's ship probably looks like on the inside!

[justasparkwritings]

Camp Evergreen: You & Me, Me & You {5}

Previous: You & Me {4}

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Summer Camp AU, Non Idol AU, FILTH, SMUT

Rating: NC17 / R

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: Swearing! Consensual-Protected-Sex! Oral Sex! P-in-V Sex! Sex Talk! Crying! So many musical theatre references! 

Summary: A truth Taehyung has been hiding bubbles to the surface, and he has to reckon with the hurt he’s caused you. The Staff Talent Show, a beloved camp tradition, serves as an emotional dumping ground for the love and heartache this summer has created. 

Notes: This is the penultimate chapter! Pls find someone who makes clipboards for you and spends the time singing to you without being asked. So excited you get to read the history of the clipboards... Loved crafting them.

This is for my Free Space for @bangtanwritingbingo​

Beta Readers: @sugasbabiie​ and @xiaokoo​ who I adore beyond words. 

Listening: 10/10 Troye Sivan (and 15 that get mentioned - it’s too many to tag)

Camp Evergreen Master List

Be the One Master List

       Taehyung finds you in your office, scrambling to grab a few items before Free Time starts. His downcast eyes, refusal to cross the threshold and the lip between his teeth give way to the turmoil inside of him. He hasn’t spoken to you in days, but the letters have still shown up. Somehow, every day, he’s managed to infuse love and adoration into every moment, never leaving you hanging or wondering where his affections lie. He’s still sneaking pictures, stowing them away for a purpose you haven’t begun to wonder about.

       Each day you take your note, read it, and tuck it into your drawer. All of them a collection of affections.

       Day 25: The air is hummin’ / And something great is comin! / Who knows? Yours, Tae

       Day 13: This is the very first page / Not where the storyline ends / Yours, Tae (His thumbprint and a 13 written. How poetic, Taylor Swift on day 13. It’s enough to bring tears to your eyes.)

       Day 17: I miss your laugh. Tae

       Day 20: I miss your smile. Tae

       Day 26: I miss you. Tae

       Day 27: I miss us, I miss us so much, Baby. You and me, remember? Tae

       You glance at him, thankful he looks as shitty as you feel, before continuing to gather your things.

       “Can I help you?” You question.

      “I just, we haven’t talked since the storm,” Taehyung adjusts his cap low on his head.

      “I’m aware,”

      “I, you got my notes,” It’s a statement, not needing to ask for confirmation.

      “Yes,”

      He fiddles with his watch, checking the time again. “I just, fuck,”

      “What?” You snap, staring him down again.

      “I just wanted us to talk, to maybe, find common ground or something.”

      “Last I checked our common ground was that you’re my employee,” You don’t waver, mind made up that this, whatever it was, wasn’t going to happen at Camp.

      “That doesn’t mean we have to be distant from each other,”

      “What does it mean then? Was the handbook not clear enough?”

      “Why are you being like this?” Taehyung’s pleading, another prayer, a hope that you’ll back down.

      “Because Tae, I have to hold you at arm’s length while your little Kwanie continues to get closer.”

      “Seriously?”

      “What?”

      He shakes his head, a poor attempt to toss his deja-vu. “You’ve been doing this all summer.”

      “I am-

      “Are you jealous?”

      “She’s getting too close.”

      “Last I checked, I don’t belong to you,” Taehyung spits, he doesn’t mean it, at all – can you tell he doesn’t?

      You hold back the wave of shock that ripples through you, the pang of hurt beating in your heart. “You can only belong to yourself.”

      “You know what I mean,” He whispers.

      “No, enlighten me.”

      Taehyung sighs, “You’re acting like my heart isn’t yours.”

      “Her heart could be yours,” You grumble.

      “She’s head over heels in love with Yoongi! They’re fucking together!” It comes out more like a whine than a yell, his bravado dissipating again.

      “So?” Your response delayed, a signal that you had in fact just pieced together that Yoongi had been awfully coy in past conversations about the status of him and Kwan, probably to lessen your heartache. Pretend he was experiencing his own, when in reality, he’s fucking happy.

      Which means years of spending time with the woman you’ve been nothing but cruel to all summer.

      “After five years, you really think my –

      “I know you went on a date,” You interrupt.

      It’s as if the ground has fallen out from under him. “What?”

      “I was informed that you went on a date with what’s her name- some girl your parents set you up with,” You didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to bring this up or use it as ammunition but here you are, trying to remain calm, lobbying a hot grenade at him.

      “I, yeah I did.” Taehyung holds your gaze.

      “I can’t believe you,” You whisper.

      “Which thing can’t you believe?”

      “Don’t mock me.”

      “Then tell me,” He’s imploring you, fists balling at his sides, eyes aching for any sort of softness in yours.

      “You go on not one, but multiple dates, you kiss her, then you let Kwan fucking borrow your hoodie, put her head on your shoulder, making matching bracelets and scheming about Jimin while I-

      “How long have you known?” He asks.

      “A while.”

      “You’ve known I went on a few dates for a few weeks, and you’re just saying something now?” Taehyung can admit he’s in the wrong, he should’ve told you in January. He should’ve told you when his parents forced it on him again. If you are what he claims, he should’ve told you.

      “What does it matter how long I’ve known? You’ve been hiding it from me since January!”

      “How long did it take before you forgave me about Jimin?”

      “That’s totally different.”

      “Enlighten me.” He’s glowering, anger continually brewing in his veins.

      “You weren’t the one that was hurt Tae.”

      Taehyung sighs, he knows you’re right. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

      “You went on a date with her this summer, Tae. Was it after we nearly fucked in my office? Or how could I forget when we made love in my bed? After you promised me, vowed to me, that it’s you and me always?”

      “I knew you’d be upset,” Is all he can offer.

      “The truth always comes out, always.”

      “Then what’s the truth about us? What’s the-

      “Say it again and I will start singing P!nk,” You warn.

      “You’re still my boss, right?” He’s glowering, unimpressed by your outburst. But you know him better than that, you know the look in his eyes, the defeat, the hurt, the cruelty in his actions being spit back at him.

      “Yes,” It’s a whisper.

      “What I do in my personal life isn’t your business, isn’t that what you said?”

      “That’s not what I said at all,” Your skin feels like it’s trying to claw itself off your body, disgust and anger in your blood.

      “What, Kwan or Chloe?”

      “Chloe? Oh I’m sorry, did you say Zoey?”

      “Don’t, don’t quote Dear Evan Hansen when we’re fighting,” His resolve is wavering,

      “Look, it’s not the same, either of them. You can’t just flirt shamelessly in front of me all summer and act like it’s fair.”

      “Then what do you suppose I do?”

      “How long have you been seeing her?” You ask.

      “Who?”

      “The girl your mom set you up with?”

      “Just, we’ve gone on two dates,” Taehyung sits in the chair across from your desk, body slouching in the rickety frame.

      “Before that?”

      He rolls his eyes. “What do you mean before that?”

      “I’m not a fucking idiot Tae. You got really weird around Christmas, and then you didn’t come to New Years. People talk, your friends talk,” You sit down too, arms crossing over your chest. It’s all you can do to stop the flood of profanities and tears threatening to leave your body.

      “What did they say?” He’s pissed, ready to fillet Jimin and Jungkook and, if he really doesn’t know what’s good for him, Yoongi.

      “You were dating some girl.”

      “I was-

      “Is this the same one?”

      “Yes.”

      “Fool me once, shame on you,” You scoff.  

      “I didn’t fool you,”

      “Then why are you dating some random girl?”

      “Because! Because my parents told me to take her out, they made plans on New Year’s without asking me, because you’re my fucking boss and nothing more. You don’t get to be jealous and petty and mean when you make your decision.” Taehyung is growling, snarling at you in broad daylight for everyone to see.

      “I didn’t make a decision! My hand was forced I –

      “I can’t keep fighting,” Taehyung stands, hand lifting his hat off only to tighten it against his cranium.  

      “So what, we’re, this is over?” It’s the only question that could break both of you, and it’s killing you both to think about it. Could this be it, the breaking point, the point of no return?

      “That’s not what I said,” Taehyung is quick to answer.

      “Then what are you saying?”

      “I –

      “Y/N!” Asher calls.

      “Coming!” You turn to stare at him. “I have to go; I’m doing a reading of a few fables in Jimin’s free period. You should go too; you have a group waiting.”

      “Y/N,” Taehyung calls.  

      “What Taehyung?”

      “I’ll see you at the staff talent show,” He doesn’t smile or carry any hope in his eyes.

      “Yeah, break a leg.”

      You cut across the lawn, through the campers awaiting the bell of Free Time starting, past a concerned Seokjin, and into the dance cabin, where Asher is taking attendance.

      “Y/N!” Asher calls, drawing the campers to your slightly tear stained face.

      “Good afternoon campers, I have been enlisted to run a dramatic and comedic reading of some fables in one of my favorite books, Where the Mountain Meets the Moon.”  

      It was easy getting lost in the Chinese fables of Fruitless Mountain, the Jade River and the journey of Minli, hoping to find the Old Man of the Moon to bring fortune back to her village. The vivid characters of Ma and Ba, reminds some campers of their own parents, the dragon who can’t fly, a friend when Minli needed one most. It was the perfect summer read, blending fable with fiction, it had been one of your favorites during student teaching. Doing a dramatic and comedic reading was a challenge, but one you took on with pride. Jimin didn’t ask a lot of people to guest teach his free time periods, and when he did, it was always packed.

      “Are you gonna perform in the Staff Talent Show?” Noah asks.

      “Absolutely not. I’m going to stay in the back, just watching and enjoying it.”

      “I heard Mr. Kim is going to sing,” Euna chimes in.

      “Which Mr. Kim? There’s three,” Noah counters.

      “Taehyung.”

      “I heard, I’m sure it will be amazing.” You offer a forced smile and bid the campers farewell before making a beeline to your office, shutting the door quickly and flipping the lock. Sitting down in your desk chair, you stare at the wall of artwork behind you.

      In the center, the four clipboards Taehyung had made.

      First, his original work, collaged and mod-podged onto your cardboard clipboard, he’d managed to encapsulate what he knew about you perfectly on the frame. He had told you he was working on something special for you, a celebration of your first time being a counselor at camp. He presented it the night before campers arrived, huddled by your cabin, always Cabin 4, and handed you the wrapped box.

      “Taehyung, what have you done?” You asked.

      “It’s just, it’s for you, I hope you like it,” He blushed.

      Peeling the paper off, your breath was caught in your throat. It was stunning, painted gold, images of all the things you loved doing together, moments he’d stolen a napkin or business card, polaroid’s he’d taken when you weren’t paying attention. Moments from your first year of friendship, secured between layers of mod-podge and glitter, perfectly pieced scrapbook pieces. It was all there.

      “Taehyung,”

      “I just, I wanted it to be special for you, it’s an important summer, you’ve been working so hard to get here,” Taehyung told you.

      “I love it!” You said, hands reaching to pull him in. You could feel his heartbeat through his shirt, pounding rapidly against you. “It’s gorgeous, I, thank you.”

      Taehyung wrapped his arms around you holding fast to your hips. He tilted his head ever so slightly, lips pressing to your hair.

      “Anything for you,” He muttered.

      “You’re just, this means so much, I’m going to keep it forever, okay?” You muttered into his neck, lips trying desperately to push the sound towards his ear.

      “Forever’s a long time,”

      “I know,” You pulled away, eyes misty, staring into his. “But I will, I promise.”

      “Pinky?” Taehyung pulled away, hand raising, waiting hesitantly for yours.

      “Promise,” You intertwined your fingers before raising them to your lips, kissing the skin of your thumb.

      The following summer, Taehyung, again, the night before campers arrived, pulled you aside to hand you another wrapped gift. Opening the box, your hands pulled the clipboard from its tissue paper encasing.

      “Tae,” You started, eyes already welling. This year, he’d opted for a clear plastic clipboard, and had painstakingly cut away layers and layers of plastic to reveal mountains and forests, which he’d painted and gilded with gold before refilling the holes with resin. “I can’t believe you made this.”

      “Did you see what I carved in the bottom corner?”

      “Where I usually hold it?”

      “Read what it says,” He encouraged.

      “You & Me,” You read.

      “Me and you,” Taehyung repeated.

      “It’s gorgeous, I don’t know if I can use it,”

      “You can, it’s durable. If it breaks, I may have another one tucked away,” He couldn’t stop smiling, the happiness in your voice feeding his.

      “You made two?”

      “Six weeks is a long time, you nearly destroyed yours last year,”

      “That wasn’t my-

      “It’s okay, I’m teasing,” Taehyung interrupted, his hand resting on your hip, thumb slipping underneath the fabric of your t-shirt.

      “I hate it when you do that,”

      “I know,” His smile turned to a smirk.

      “Tae?”

      “Hm?”

      “This is going to be a great summer, right?” You asked, eyes peering up at him over the brim of your glasses.

      “Better than last years’,” He agrees.

      “You’re my favorite,”

       “You’re mine too,” Taehyung placed a goodnight kiss on your forehead, then your cheek. “Goodnight.”

      Year 3 was barely holding it together, Gorilla glue and a prayer it’s final hope. Broken at some point between week three and four by Namjoon, it was looking worse for wear. Taehyung, again, met you by your cabin door, this time clipboard in a bag. He’d pressed flowers, leaves, gathered mini pearls and gold leaf, all of which he encased in resin, hand screwing on the clip-on top. It was stunning, your favorite by far, and it was devastating to hear it snap so swiftly, under the weight of Namjoon’s foot. You had nearly cried, devastation over the loss of something so personal… but Taehyung had reassured you he could fix it, and he did, kind of.

      The fourth year, Taehyung had resorted to an old standby, a classic, postcards. He covered your clipboard with postcards from places you’d gone together, places you’d wanted to travel to, and on the side you wrote on, Taehyung had written note after note to you. Some inside jokes, others lyrics to your favorite songs, some promises. By this point, you’d become accustomed to his gorgeous gifts, growing more and more personal each year. The care he put into each of them, hours and days, sketching, planning, making prototypes only to toss them away. He never let you know what he was planning, never slipping when he was taking extra napkins or sneaking pictures… he never let you see that he spent his entire year planning this gift, well this and your birthday, and Christmas presents. He loved giving you gifts, would’ve given you the world if you’d asked.

      “Taehyung, I can’t, I can’t use this,” You whispered, tears brimming at his thoughtfulness.  

      “Why not?”

      “It’s too,”

      “It’s too much isn’t it?” Taehyung was panicking, unsure if he completely screwed up.

      “No, it’s just, I love it so much,” You moved your eyes from your new clipboard to him. He stared, hope in his eyes. Did he get the subtext of your words?

      “Really?”

      “You mean, this is, fuck you for making me cry before camp Tae!” You slapped his chest, his baritone giggle lifting into the air.

      “You and me, Y/N,” He said.

      “Yeah, me and you,” You had answered. It had been so simple, his subtle glance around a sign that what he was going to do next was major, earth shattering. Taehyung dipped his head, nose brushing against yours before his lips pressed gently onto yours. It was chaste, a first kiss perfect for the beginning of camp, tender and loving, unsure where it would lead.

      Now, staring at four years of memories, four years of back and forth, it all feels like it is crashing down. Wiping your tears on the hem of your camp shirt, you continue staring at them, wondering when you’d fucked up.

      You would’ve sat there all night, if someone hadn’t knocked on your door, alerting you to dinner, and an hour later, to the talent show. Feeling too sick to eat, you passed the time organizing files and updating documents you knew you needed to get done and turned in.

      “You can’t miss the talent show,” Yoongi says, calling your attention to the man standing in your doorway.

      “I didn’t hear the door open,” Is all you can offer.

      “I know,”

      “I’m sorry, I’m coming, I swear,” You don’t move to get up, though.

      Yoongi sighs, “Just hear what the kid has to say, okay?”

      “He isn’t a kid, Yoongi,”

      “He isn’t, but you hurt him, and he hurt you. Can you just...put it behind you and come to the show?” He asks.

      “How is it that your big camp event is about to happen, and you’re standing in my doorway?” You ask him.

      Yoongi stares at you, his best friend, his companion, his stubborn, ridiculously stupid ride or die. How long had he watched you and Taehyung dance around each other? How long had he listened to you painstakingly detail your first kiss, or the first time Taehyung held your hand? How many evenings had he fielded the ‘so and so asked me out, saying yes feels like a betrayal to Tae, what do I do?’. Yoongi wished he didn’t know every detail of your romance, and he hated every time you called it budding, or blossoming because, as someone who had watched it from day one, it wasn’t blossoming. You and Taehyung had been in the throes of this relationship for years now, falling more and more in love, both parties unwilling to fully admit the depth of feeling shared between you. Yoongi, for all it was worth, had done what little he could to push you towards admitting that you two weren’t friends, but in a full-fledged committed relationship. He was shocked you hadn’t moved in together, or better yet, gotten engaged. But to get engaged you had to admit to being irrevocably in love, of which you still hadn’t.  

      “I came to get you. We need you out there.” Yoongi answers, the thoughts in his mind halting.

      You sigh, “I know you do, I’m not skipping the talent show.”

      “Then why are you still here? You missed dinner,” He notes.

      “I snuck into the kitchen. Hey, question.”

      “Hm?”

      “How long?”

      “Two weeks before camp started.”

      “Yoongs,” You say.

      “I know.”

      “Why?”

      “I didn’t, we wanted to make sure it was going to stick, camp is the perfect place for a new relationship to fall apart.”

      “Tell me about it.”

      “We just wanted to be sure.”

      “You love her?”

      “Perhaps I do,” Yoongi blushes.

      You smile, it’s the first genuine smile you’ve given to someone other than a camper in… days. It isn’t that you haven’t had occasion to, well, maybe you haven’t. Tied up in the web of this summer turning out to be absolute hell, the idea of smiling or enjoying yourself is as foreign to you as a summer without mosquito bites.

      “Come on, you can’t avoid him anymore.”

      “I’m not,” It’s a feeble attempt at putting it off.  

      “Don’t lie. Do you need a hug?” Yoongi offers, arms opening for you.

      You stand, dragging your feet to his frame, head resting against his chest. “It’s not the same.”

      “What?”

      “Hugging you, it’s not the same,” You explain.

      “Because I don’t love you the way Taehyung does?”

      “Did, Yoongi. I don’t even know how we even forgive each other.”

      Yoongi nods, releasing you from his grasp. “Hm, that’s not going to resolve itself right now, so can we please go to the talent show?”

      “Yeah, let’s go watch you crash and burn as you successfully declare your love,” You say.

      “Those two sentiments are contradicting, and you know it,” Yoongi drapes his arm across your shoulders, eyes sweeping over the wall of sentiments, and guides you out of your office to the theatre.

      It’s raucous, campers chatting with each other, voices bounding off one another, echoing in the space. Everyone’s giddy, excited to watch their teachers perform for the first time. There’s little fear in the eyes of the performers backstage, too excited and too well rehearsed that they barely notice as the MC, Seokjin, takes the stage.  

      You grab Yoongi’s hand before he moves to slip backstage. “If he says my name into that mic, I will kill you.”

      Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Deal.”

      “Who has the set list?”

      “Check your clipboard,” Yoongi doesn’t move to pull out of your grasp, instead he stares at you, patiently, waiting for you to finish reading the setlist.

      “He’s going near the end?”

      “Yes,”

      “And you’re going at the end too? Is this going to be too many emotional confessions about Kwan? Oh my god, I’m going to get rejected in front of all of camp and then have to pretend like I’m not devastated. I hate you,” Your rambling words tumble out of you.

      “Will you stop? Just enjoy the show.”

      You let him go, heading up to the stage to get ready for the opening number. Glancing around, you spot Taehyung, sitting next to Jimin. He’s always preferred to watch the first half before heading backstage to get ready. Jimin is performing with Jungkook, and again with Hoseok. He looks unphased, completely professional but you know he’s shitting bricks inside.

      Taehyung is trying hard not to glance back at you, to watch as Yoongi leaves you, watching everyone chatter before Seokjin calls for attention. He wants to go to you, to apologize again, and again, and again for all the fighting. He hates being this far from you. Even after you first met, at the party, you didn’t spend more than a few moments apart, which bled into the next five years. You barely exist without each other. And now, in a room with a hundred people, you’re trying your hardest to avoid each other, to not miss each other, to not want the other.

      Everything that’s happened this summer, the discontent, the yelling and fighting, the pangs of hurt in Taehyung’s heart are so, foreign and strange. It’s uncharted territory. In the years you’ve been at each other’s sides, the weddings, the job promotions, the disappointments, the joys, have you fought this much or this aggressively? Have your words ever shot to kill, like they did last week?

      No.

      Taehyung’s never been mad at you or hurt by your actions before. But what did he expect? He lied, he withheld information that fundamentally challenges your relationship. He’s overtly flirted, engaged with the one person that makes you feel so deeply insecure, for what? It’s that regret, that gnawing feeling of impending doom that has Taehyung keeping his eyes down as the show begins, refusing to acknowledge you.

      It feels like years, watching staff member after staff member sing their songs, juggle balled socks, recite monologues from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Wonder, perform G rated stand-up comedy and perform their meticulously planned choreography. Jungkook and Jimin bring the house down, but it’s the lineup of Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Seokjin all singing the Spice Girls’ Say You’ll be There, that sends everyone into a frenzy. Performed perfectly, an homage to Spice World, it’s both silly and sweeping, tugging at your nostalgia and deep love for the camp classic.

      It’s pandemonium, until Taehyung hits the stage.

      “Good evening,” He speaks into the mic, baritone resonating in the acoustics of the Mess Hall. “Thank you to Counselor Yoongi for accompanying me on the guitar. I’m not much for song writing, so I’m borrowing this song from an Australian fellow. It’s called 10/10,” Taehyung adjusts the mic as Yoongi begins a short preamble, maybe four counts before Tae’s voice shoots right through you.

      “Now we're adversaries in a pretty house, yeah / Couldn't tell you what we're even fight 'bout, yeah / That's probably something we should figure out, yeah / Ooh” He croons.

      “Cause I wanna be a ten out of ten for you / Hit it out of the park / And I wanna be an amen to ya / When you're falling apart / And we're not what we used to be / But let's be what we are (Let's be what we are)”

      It hits you, square in the chest, tears brimming. You try to hold them in, to inhale slowly through your mouth and out your nose, to glance around and make sure no one has noticed your completely disheveled state. The memory of the last time Taehyung sang this song to you comes crashing down as he moves through the second verse and chorus to the bridge. He looks up, finding you instantly and holds your gaze.

      “There will be dark days, ooh / Swear that they'll be short / There will be good days, ooh / There'll be so many more/ You can always be sure that.” His voice is perfect, gravely and purposeful, he sweeps through the audience, singing of promises only you and he knows and can keep.

      Promises that you’d exchanged before you left camp, him and you.

      Taehyung had promised he’d take his time, worship your body, make you cum and then beg for more, all with the power of his tongue. He was making good on that promise, your hips pulled to the edge of the counter, his head buried deep between your thighs.

      “Taehyung, fuck, just like that,” You moaned. One hand woven into his black locks, tugging mercilessly, his slight pain kink having come out in pillow talk the night previous. Your other held you upright, elbow trying hard not to lock as you moved your hips intime to his ministrations.

      It had happened so organically, a kiss after finishing the dinner dishes, the command of jump given, your ass landing on the soapstone beneath. Taehyung’s nimble fingers drug up your thighs, pulling at the hem of your underwear before taking them off. While his hands had sought the supple flesh of your thighs, his lips had stayed with yours, exploring the column of your neck, nipping at your collarbones, suckling your earlobe before he began expressing his deepest desires.

        “Baby, you’re gonna be good for me, okay?” He mewled.

        “Yes Tae,”

        “I need you to know now, that it’s going to be a long night, you know why?”

        “Why?”

        “I’m Tantalus, and your juices are the only thing that can come close to quenching my thirst.”

        You gasped, breath escaping your lungs, a trill so unholy Taehyung had pulled back to catch your expression. the awe in your eyes, the sparkle of mischief in his, fuck you wanted him.

        “Fuck,” You whispered. “Loverboy, you might be lethal,”

        Taehyung winked before pulling you to him, a hand holding your ponytail, tilting your head back ever so slightly. His façade dropped, eyeing your exposed neck.

        “You’ll kill me if I leave a mark, right?” He asked.

        “Yes, absolutely.”

        He continued to stare at your neck, eyes trailing down the lines of your collarbones, stopping at your cleavage. His mind wandered back to a few nights ago, when you had taken him, not just confined within your walls, but deeply nestled in your throat. How you so thoroughly loved him, expecting little in return as he sorely bruised your flesh and made it difficult to walk. All he wanted was to make you feel good, to make you feel loved, to let you know the depths of his feelings for you.

        “Tae,”

        “Hm?”

        “You’re staring,” You laughed, hands moving up his arms, wrapping behind his neck, pulling his lips back to yours. You kissed him with urgency, tongue slipping past his lips, pressure from your lips amplifying his. His teeth grazing your bottom lip, tugging swiftly. Taehyung hands busied themselves kneading your flesh, moving closer and closer to your exposed heat, teasing you over and over again.

         Gasping for air, you turned your head, his lips dipping to your collarbones before suckling the flesh of your cleavage.

        “Tae,” You moaned, hands tangled in his hair.

        “Say it again,” He instructed.

        “Tae, fuck.”

        “Tell me what you need.”

        “You, I need your mouth on me.”

        Taehyung had moved quickly, his teeth nipping at your eczema scarred thighs, his fingers deftly separating your lips, giving them a cursory stroke.

        “Oh my god,” Taehyung muttered.

        “Wet?” You asked, hips attempting to move closer to his mouth.

        “Soaking,” Taehyung didn’t waste time, tongue repeating the motions of his fingers, licking your folds delicately, but growing in ferocity.

        “M-more,” You moaned. Your head had long ago fallen back, mind blank as he tended to you.

        “Look at me, Baby.”

      “Tae,” You whined.

      “Look at me,” He demanded this time, tongue a whisper over your sensitive, wanting bud. It was demanding attention, needing release, his ghostly touch taunting it over and over again.

      You tilted your chin down, eyes meeting his before he closed them, lips finally taking your clit between them.

      “Oh my god,” You moaned. “Just like that, please.”

      Taehyung continued to use his mouth on you, nose burrowing deeper against your heat, lips and tongue coated in your arousal. His focus was beginning to pull though, away from your sacrilegious moans, away from your pull on his hair, and to his own sex, aching and straining against his pants. He groaned into you, a hand slipping to palm himself once, twice, before pulling back.

      “Tae! No!” You yelled, the coil tightening within almost ready to snap.

      He smirked, loving the neediness in your voice, before coating his fingers in your wetness. The light touch had you mewling, needing more. He continued stroking you, instead of placing his mouth back on your cunt, optioned for pulling you into a sloppy kiss. His tongue, tasting like you, tangled with yours, a spindly finger, finally coated to satisfaction, slipped past your entrance. The intrusion echoed in your chest.  

      “Ah, oh fuck, more, more,” You demanded.

      “Baby,” He cooed, lips once again finding the hull of your ear. “I’m just getting started.”

        Taehyung dropped to his knees again, tongue and lips finding their home base on your clit, speed and pressure amplified by your desperate need for release.

        “Tae, Tae, fuck, you feel so good, just like that,” You moaned.

        Your words spurred him on, and he slipped another finger into you, then a third. Your walls convulsed around him, pulling him in, begging him to do his worst. He curled them with each thrust, stretching you in preparation, searching for that elusive spot.

        “I’m gonna cum, Tae,” Your warning shot was heard, and dealt with by Taehyung doubling down his efforts, his own moans vibrating through you, creating the perfect sensation to send you over the edge.

        He didn’t let up, pressure consistent as you rode your first orgasm, head back, eyes closed, his name a hallelujah on your lips.

        “Fuck,” Is all you could say, watching as he stood up, licked his fingers clean before wiping off his mouth. He stood between your legs, hands on your quivering thighs and stared.

        “You’re gorgeous,” He whispered. His eyes, yearning to tell you what he had been feeling these last five years, to tell you he’s struggling to keep his balance, teetering on the edge of a precipice. “You’re brilliant, thoughtful, and considerate. You’re, you’re more than my best friend. You’re more than...than a partner. You’re, you’re my world.”

        “Taehyung,” You responded, hand coming to cup his cheek, how vulnerable he looked, how open and honest and loving. Here he was, offering you his heart, offering his life, so long as you gave him yours in return.

        “I want us, I want us so much. I always have, since that first night, at the party. I just, I didn’t know how to tell you.” Taehyung stared intently into your eyes, he didn’t know how to tell you, so he showed you. Five years’ worth of love and affection, you hadn’t ever doubted that he loved you, cared for you, saw you as someone he could weave his future with. You’d done it too, made plans for the life you were building together. But why hadn’t either of you taken the step, call it what it was, admit to it?

        “Taehyung,” You said again, words stuck in a lump in your throat. “It’s you and me, always, forever, Tae, give me love, I’ll put my heart in it.”

        “I told Jiminie, there’s a lyric for every part of our story, every emotion I’ve ever had for you… I used to dream that you would talk to me.” Taehyung whispered.

        You smiled, adding to this musical love story by adding another Dermot Kennedy lyric. “Since that night the moon has never seemed the same,”

        “Ten minutes ago, I saw you / I looked up when you came through the door / My head started reeling / You gave me the feeling / The room had no ceiling or floor,” Taehyung sang.  

        “My whole heart / will be yours forever.”

        “Baby it’s you / you’re the one I love / you’re the one I need / you’re the only one I see,” Tae didn’t hold back, belting the key change loudly in the kitchen.

        “Darling I’ll be yours forever / cause I never want to be / without love,” You countered, hitting one of Penny’s signature high notes.

        “You came out of nowhere / and you cut through all the noise / I make sense of the madness / when I listen to your voice,” Ben Platt had nothing on Taehyung, not today or tomorrow or ever.

        “Will you share your life with me / for the next ten minutes / and the next ten minutes / till the morning comes,” You whispered, the tears had begun streaming down your cheeks somewhere between Hairspray and Beyonce.

Taehyung wiped them away before taking your hands in his.

        “And if you in turn agree / To the next ten minutes / And the next ten minutes / ‘Til the morning comes / Then just holding you / Might compel me to / Ask you for more,” Taehyung wasn’t singing, wasn’t speaking half-truths or words masked by rose colored glasses. He was making a vow, a promise, to ask you for more.

        “You and me,” The only phrase that could possibly summarize what you’d just expressed to each other.

        “Me and you, baby,” Taehyung moved his hands from your thighs, where they’d rested, tears from your fingertips melting into the fabric of your sundress. He moved them gently, fingers drawing lazy patterns up your arms, down your shoulders, over the bumps of your collarbones, until they rested on your cheeks. He nodded to himself, eyes carefully memorizing every line and dip of your swollen lips, before he connected his to them.

        He moved lazily, passionately, skillfully, dancing with you, pulling you deeper and deeper into his orbit, tethering your heart to his. His lips connected to your pulse point, down the column of your neck, and the heat of earlier, the fire that had been set aside was starting to flame again.

      “Tae,” You murmured, head turning, hands reaching for him, bringing his eyes level with yours. You stared, thoughts of what this all meant started to seep in, only to be interrupted by the one in front of you.

      “Y/N,” Taehyung whispered. He loved saying your name, the syllables all perfectly aligning, the sound of the consonants and vowels making a sound so spine-tinglingly beautiful it made his body ache. He ached when someone else said it, yearned when another person dared bare the name for themselves, longed for you whenever he heard your nicknames… above all, he longed for you. Your name, the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, only beat by your voice calling his name.

      “I, never mind,” The blush danced across your cheeks, a sharp juxtaposition to the state of your raw and exposed lower half.

       “Baby, Y/N, tell me,”

      “I just, I want you,”

      “Yeah?” He tilted his head, trying to find the subtext of what you were saying.

      “I want you to make love to me,” You lifted your gaze to his. Your request, the epitome of the deep, all-consuming emotions you felt towards him. Him, Taehyung, the man you’d been falling for ever so slowly, and then it seemed, all at once. Or maybe it had happened so fast, with such speed, you’d never realized that in actuality, all you’d ever felt for him was unyielding love.

        Taehyung didn’t rush, instead he stilled, a decision flashing in front of his eyes, a moment to savor, a moment to decide if this was going to be when he professed his feelings clearly, three little words, words that supposedly carried more weight than your call and response, or if he was going to tuck them away for another moment in time. He chose to stare, finger tracing the outline of your lips before tilting your chin up just enough to meet his.

      Taehyung opens his eyes, searches the crowd for you, but you’re gone from your post in the back. He takes his bow, accepts the applause, and hightails it for his cabin. It doesn’t take long, Taehyung rushing to his bunk, before the second person he wants to see shows up.

      “Taehyungie,” Jimin calls, moving swiftly to his best friend.

      “What?” Taehyung croaks, his own tears falling into his pillow.

      “What’s wrong?”

      “She doesn’t want me,” Taehyung sobs, shoulders shaking, snot and saltwater dripping down his face.

      Jimin sighs, “That’s not true.”

      “Then why is she acting like this? Like I don’t mean anything?”

      “She’s in a really hard spot, she’s trying to run a camp, she can’t just be your girlfriend,” Jimin explains.

      “She isn’t just anything, not just my girlfriend, not just my friend. She’s,”

      “She’s what?” Jimin’s voice is soft, a hand rubbing Taehyung’s back in soothing circles. He watches as Taehyung’s posture changes, eyes resolving the inner turmoil that’s been raging all summer.

      “I love her,” Taehyung says, voice steady, tears subsiding.

      Jimin sighs, “Tae,”

      “She didn’t stay for my song,”

      “She left crying. Did you want her to stay, sobbing in the back of the theatre to that sad ass song?” Jimin laughs, his joy at Taehyung’s expense bringing a smile to his lips.

      “I wanted her to hear me.”

      “I think she heard you. Honestly, we all did. It’s pretty obvious to all of us that you two are so deep in love, you can’t detangle yourselves from each other.”

      “We are not,”

      “You are too! Why do you spend months making her those clipboards?” Jimin chuckles.

      Taehyung shrugs against his sleeping bag. “She really likes them.”

      “You met her second semester senior year, and the minute you found out she was coming to camp started making shitty project after shitty project until you got it right. How long did this summers’ take you?”

      “Well, I made it the week before we got here.”

      Jimin knows there’s more. “And?”

      “I worked on it for three days straight and then finished it when we got here.”

      “You’re so in love with her, and you have been for years, years, Taehyungie.”

      “Why doesn’t she see it?”

      “Do you see that she loves you?”

      Taehyung pauses, thinking over your actions, the playlists you make for him, the days you drop off lunch for him, the nights you make dinner and let him have the leftovers. The affirmations and thoughtful texts and voice notes you send, the calendar you think he doesn’t know about, with every important date that pertains to him scheduled. Taehyung thinks about your photo collection, the framed pieces of art he’s given you, the extra clothes in your dresser for him, his toothbrush in your bathroom.

      Of course, you love him. Of course, you wanted him, were you not already creating space for him in your home? Did he not spend most of his hours with you? Had you not spent the week before training tangled in each other, using your bodies to convey what your heart had been feeling for years?

      “She’s mad at me.”

      Jimin hands him a tissue. “She has every right to be, you made a really dick move.”

      “My parents set me up! I didn’t want to!”

      “You didn’t tell her, Tae. You can’t parade around like you’re deeply in love with her and then not tell her when your parents are forcing you to go on dates with some new girl. She had to find out –

      “From you!”

      “On accident. Still, you’re not great at telling the people you love bad news. Case in point, Stella.”

      “Did you talk to her like Y/N suggested?”

      “Yeah, I did.” Jimin nods.

      “And?”

      “She fucking used me to cheat, and then told her fiancé that I was ready to marry her if he didn’t.”

      Taehyung sits up, jaw dropping at Jimin’s confession. “She used you as leverage?”

      “Yes.”

      “I can’t believe that. Jimin-ah, I’m so sorry.”

      “It’s better that it’s over. I just, I can’t believe she’d do that. What kind of person does that?”

      “A shitty one.”

      “Takes one to know one,” Jimin nudges Tae, who in turn pouts.

      “I’ve made mistakes.”

      “You need to apologize.”

      ��I will, I promise I will. She has to be willing to hear it though, and I don’t know if she is or when she will be.”

      “Maybe ask Yoongi?” Jimin suggests.

      “Yoongi’s allegiance is to Y/N, always.”

      “Like mine is to you?”

      “Yes.”

      “You’ll figure it out. People who aren’t madly and irrevocably in love don’t say shit like ‘you and me, me and you’ constantly.”

      “Stop,” Taehyung whines.

      “It’s true, but what’s with the Dirty Dancing stuff? That’s new.”

      “You don’t want to know,” Taehyung laughs.

      “Is it a sex thing?”

      “Kind of, a couple thing.”

      “You’ll find your way back to each other, you always do. And when you do, you can set me up with someone who preferably doesn’t have a whole other life and identity in another state.”

      Taehyung knows it isn’t funny, but there’s something in the eye roll Jimin gives, the playful glint in his eye that has him chuckling.

      “Deal.” Taehyung extends his hand, which Jimin takes. “Love you.”

      “Love you too.” 

Next: You & Me 6 (final)

[emotionalcello-makefanfics]

Disclaimer tho, all my knowledge of the fandom is strictly from fanfic and google. I don't read the comic or watch the anime. I only have some vague knowledge of what's canon or not and making this fanfic has been somewhat of a fever dream.

Tags: Fluff and angst. Attempt at humor. Crying. Probably ooc. No smut, just holding hands and some hugging and some kissing. Shouto smokes, and probably incorrect depictions of smoking. Implied child abuse (you know who). Lowkey Fuyumi bashing.

Warning: In character cussing from explodo boy. 

Summary:

They found each other in coinciding vulnerability. Shouto was smoking, Katsuki was crying. Miraculously, no one died. It seems that vulnerability is exactly what they need to get through their respective problems, because vulnerability makes them do the one thing the two boys are allergic to do, opening up.

Or, Shouto and Katsuki cope with each other. It miraculously didn't end in explosions, just a lot of physical affections and crying.

Words: 10.9 k

 You don’t have to take life so seriously Shouto! It can be whatever you want to be, it’s yours!

Shouto knocks his head back and parts his lips. White ribbons bleed to the orange sky. The clouds are pretty pink instead of white. The smoke doesn’t blend in with the white clouds anymore like a few hours ago. He taps the amber ash on the portable coffin-shaped ashtray. More than a dozen filter buds crammed there.

He should go back to his room. Any darker then it would be noticeable when goes back to his room. But there’s always that small whisper at the back of his head: Maybe after one more. This spot has been his salvation from overstimulation. It’s the highest building in UA, the rooftop of the dorm. He’s been here for two years and has always been alone.

The door slammed open.

High on nicotine, Shouto passes through shock to immediate acceptance that he’s busted.

Only, he’s not busted. The next sound that came is sobbing. The first thing he sees is awry blond hair and a tear-streaked red face. Soon came the already red blood-shot eyes, staring at him with a sadness that not even in Shouto’s wildest imagination can imagine on Bakugou’s face. It takes a few seconds too long for the default glare and anger to return.

“The fuck are you doing here!” He yells, his voice croaks in a not angry way. Wet and breaking at the pitch.

Shouto, still a bit floaty and relaxed from the nicotine in his system, nor is he yet to register the shock from seeing Bakugou’s tears, just points down towards his fingers.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” his voice is scratchy, a tad bit deeper. He never smoked so many that that happened. Then again, today is a special day.

Seemingly just as shocked, Bakugou seems to still. Shouto expects crackling hands, bared teeth, or maybe a ‘TELL ANYONE AND DIE’, but never that he strides his way and sits on the floor beside Shouto.

“Still have one of those?” Bakugou leans back.

Wordlessly, Shouto digs the last pack from his pocket. There are six left. Bakugou takes one, and Shouto lit a fire on the tip of his thumb towards Bakugou.

“How do you do this?” Bakugou says, eyeing the fire.

“You’ve never done this before?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I have Icyhot! Now fucking tell me already.”

“You put it between your lips, and inhales a bit as you put this corner on the fire.” Shouto crowds him cupping the end of the smoke with his palm and keep the fire controllably small. It feels like Deja Vu, but this time, Shouto is showing someone how to smoke instead.

Bakugou tries, and before Shouto can say to take it slow, Bakugou already choked and doubled over coughing. Shouto pats his back.

“What the fuck was that!” Bakugou roars and grimaces when he sees the stacks of cigarette buds on his ashtray. “How the fuck do you smoke that many!”

Shouto shrugged, “I’m used to it.” He puts out his bud on top of the pile and picks up the mostly one-piece cigarette that Bakugou chucked to the floor and lights it up. He feels eyes on him as he put the filter on his lips and lit it up in one smooth move.

With the cigarette properly lit, he offered, “Wanna try again?”

“No! That shit’s nasty.” Bakugou snarled at the hand holding the smoking cig.

“Suit yourself,” Shouto takes a deep drag and sighs. Surprisingly, Bakugou doesn’t up and leave, and more so that Shouto doesn’t mind the silence.

Alas, it only lasted exactly 33 seconds.

“How the fuck did you get in here!” Bakugou grumbles, “The door was locked.”

“I made ice stairs from my balcony.”

“Like how Elsa did?”

“Exactly like Elsa did, she was my inspiration.”

Bakugou snorts. No sadness left, just a condescending smile, which is better than the ghostly tears in his eyes.

“How did you get in through the locked door?”

“How else would you think?” Bakugou lifts his hand, cradling a small cluster of explosions.

Shouto face palmed, dragging it down.

“What?” Bakugou barks.

“Well when they figured out the door broke then they gonna figure out that someone’s been here, don’t they?”

“That nicotine is already killing your fucking brain cells.”

“That’s not how it’s-”

“Let’s get the fuck outta here before anyone finds us you loon.”

“But I-”

“You’ve burned through enough death sticks, let’s go!” Bakugou grabs his hand and pulls him up.

“Fine fine, let me tidy up.” Shouto could barely close his ashtray with all the buds in it, and he dusted the ashes that drops to the floor.

Shouto already makes the stairs down to his room before looking back at Bakugou, “Want me to drop you to your balcony?”

“I don’t know,” Bakugou narrows his eyes dangerously, “Will it suddenly melts away as I walk on it?”

Shouto huffs, “You have no faith in your favorite sparring partner?”

“The only thing I learned these past couple of years with you being shoved at my face as my sparring partner is that you’re a little shithead.”

Shouto makes the stairs towards Bakugou’s room first, reveling in how badly Bakugou tried to cover his amazement at the stairs.

“Just like Elsa’s, right?”

“You want me to give you Elsa’s number 1 simp trophy?”

Shouto melts Bakugou’s step and lets him fall blond head first into his balcony.

“YOU’LL FUCKING PAY FOR THAT, COCA-COLA SHITHEAD!”

Bakugou roars, and Shouto giggles as he jumps upstairs to his room with explosions fading behind him.

Not until he’s laying in bed that night that he thinks about Bakugou’s tears again. Rest assured, his imagination spiraled to ‘what could it be’ until 4 am.

  ++++

 I don’t understand why your dad wants you to be number one when he should’ve want you to just be happy. Nothing in life really matters unless you’re happy.

Shouto loves everything about living in the dorm, but it has one and only one weakness. He can’t smoke as freely.

His dad knows and just rant about how it’ll affect his performance.

Now, Aizawa knows, and he’s at the principal’s office.

Shouto instantly knows how. Bakugou broke the rooftop door. Iida must’ve found it, reported it to Aizawa-sensei. Maybe his homeroom teacher has magnifying vision too because Shouto could’ve sworn he left no trace.

Yet Shouto can’t find it in him to blame anyone. He knows as an aspiring hero he shouldn’t smoke, those reasons never matter at those desperate times he needed to smoke.

“Tea?” Nezu raises his pot of pink teapot, Shouto narrows his eyes at the paw (how did that paw hold the teacup?)

“Yes, thank you.” The cup is equally pink, with two cheerful yellow flowers on each side. This looks like a tea set Eri had.

Shouto sips the possibly herbal tea, trying to ignore the glare Aizawa-sensei is sending his way from beside Nezu.

“Todoroki, how long have you been smoking?” His sensei’s voice gravels, like he just woke up from bed, his bed hair supports the theory.

Apparently  a little mental, Shouto said, “Overall or in school?”

“Both.”

“Started when I was in first-grade junior high school.” As soon as he has any time away from home. “In UA, as soon as I stayed at the dorm.”

“Now, Todoroki,” Nezu put his paws together, “You know someone as young as you shouldn’t smoke. You’re underage, and an aspiring hero on top of that...”

Nezu then continues his PSA on smoking. Nothing Shouto hasn’t heard. Every word goes in the left ear and came out the right. He also isn’t surprised that Aizawa will be taking his stash of cigarettes. It doesn’t suck as much because Shouto doesn’t have a lot left anyway, nor is he been regularly smoking. He smokes when he’s stressed and nothing else could calm him down. He never reached out to the cigs first. The coffin-shaped portable ashtray reminded him that.

As soon as he’s back at the dorm, he’s greeted with a cheerful environment. Half his classmates are hanging in the living room. There’s a group playing Mario Party, a group that’s putting on nail art, and a group that seems to cook something ambitious. Shouto usually joins the group, but not today.

“Todoroki!” Iida comes from the hall, “Aizawa-Sensei came earlier and ran through your room! He seems to confiscate a pack of cigarettes. I’ve tried to tell him that it’s all a misunderstanding-”

“No, it’s mine.”

“Todoroki! At our young age as aspiring heroes we sho-”

“Nope, sorry not today Iida. Good night.”

Todoroki feels a few eyes on his back, but he walks on. With him naturally keeping things to himself, his friends tend to worry but they trust him to reach out to them in his own time. When it gets too long they usually check up on him. Shouto wished they never will.

 +++++ 

 You have the power to be whatever you want, but why are you following the wishes of someone you hate? I know he’s your dad, but your life is yours, Shouto.

Shouto’s wish didn’t come true when Bakugou bugs him on the rooftop again two days after he was raided.

It’s Deja Vu, but fewer tears from Bakugou and Shouto isn't a pack and a half deep in cigarettes.

“I fucking know you’d be at my spot again!” Bakugou spat scathingly.

“Excuse you,” Shouto scowls, “I’ve been smoking at this spot since the dorm opens. This is my spot.”

“Well, I’ve been- I’ve been-” Shouto should’ve known that Bakugou would turn red and explodes instead of admitting he’d been caught emoting, “What the fuck are you doing here anyway! You’re doing nothing!”

“No thanks to someone.”

Bakugou narrows his eyes, confused at the implication, but his exploding friend is smart, so he figured it out, and isn’t happy with what he figures out. “The fuck, get your accusing eyes away from me discount Sans, I don’t tattle.”

“No, but you exploded the door which leads to Iida reporting it, which leads to Aizawa inspecting the premises, and him figuring it out that smoked here.”

“That’s just your fucking fault for not covering your trace clean!”

Shouto inhaled indignantly, but then too tired to justify himself. There’s no ending of arguing with Bakugou, and Shouto had learned to choose his battles.

“How about you? How did you get in here?”

“Stole a key from Iida.”

“Are you here to cry again?”

Bakugou’s palms explode, his face an embarrassed flush and teeth bared in anger, “WHOS FUCKING CRYING!!?”

“I have eyes.”

“You’ve been sucking on those death sticks way too much.”

“I wasn’t smoking that type of substance.”

“Whatever, I’m not dealing with this,” Bakugou turns to step away.

“I don’t get it, it’s not a big deal!” Shouto raises his voice a bit, for some reason his heart rate picks up when Bakugou starts leaving. “So what if you sweat through your eyes? Midoriya does it almost every day, sometimes twice a day...”

“Don’t fucking compare me to fucking Deku you fucking fried ice cream!”

“...And Midoriya beat you at this year’s Sports Festival,” Shouto dismissed.

Bakugou grits his teeth, but his eyes watch over Shouto. “Stop stalling and tell me what you want from me,” Bakugou growls.

Shouto’s eyes widen at the sudden honesty, he nibbles on his bottom lips, “Stay here?”

For a second, Bakugou glares at him, but after two years of being his classmate, Shouto can confidently say that they’re friends. He knows Bakugou isn’t angry at him. As to prove his point, Bakugou sits beside him, a bit closer than Shouto expects him to, though still with that permanent scowl. Shouto moves his palms from his pocket, letting go of the aluminum ashtray. Shouto tests the waters and moves closer so their shoulder bumps. No explosions, no snarl, success.

Instantly, Shouto relaxes. Focusing on the pressure of their shoulders, the light shifts Bakugou does (because he can never fully stay still), and the clouds moving. No thought, just being alive.

Alas, no quiet ever lasted long with Bakugou, he expected it though.

“No wonder Aizawa figured it out, this place still stinks of tobacco.”

“It does?” Shouto takes a deep sniff, all he smells is Bakugou’s sweat that always smells sweet because of his quirk. “I didn’t smell anything.”

“Yeah no shit scar head, your nose is probably numb at this point.”

“I don’t smoke that much.”

“Said someone who smoked more than a dozen in one sitting,” Bakugou’s nags turns to worry, “Damn, was it really in one sitting?”

“Is that worry I detected?” Shouto deflects.

Bakugou grits his teeth, “I’m not worried! Go die off lung cancer I don’t fucking care!”

“Good, then, because yes it was, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Fucking hell it’s not! What the actual fuck are your lungs made of? I barely suck it past my throat and I almost coughed out my insides.”

“I missed your dramatics,” Shouto says genuinely, and he waits for an explosion to come. Bakugou doesn’t do well with praises thinly veiled with snark.

It never came, Bakugou watches him closely instead, “Yeah? And who’s fault is that?”

Shouto dared to glare back, but it didn’t last long, he knows the answer. Shouto had come out of his shell nicely, as Momo had put it. He’s still awkward, can’t really quite grasp ‘pop culture’ and how to correctly implied it, but he regularly hangs out with his friends. As of late, he’s noticeably withdrawn. Going straight to his room after class, and opting out of game nights, nail nights, and even soba nights.

They had been giving him space, which he finds endearing. Of course, Bakugou isn’t one to give anything liberally.

“Mine...” Shouto admits, and Bakugou looks surprised.

The fun part of befriending Bakugou is that Shouto could be a bit of a bitch and Bakugou would be a bitch back, and it wouldn’t matter. No one’s feelings were hurt, and Shouto can let go of steam without guilt. Shouto could’ve been in denial, said that Bakugou should step off his dick and no feelings would be hurt.

But he had enough of space, though admittedly, he should’ve confessed that with someone that wants to be in his space.

“Finally, you’re done moping around, everyone’s been on my ass worrying about you.”

“Why would they be on your ass?”

“Hell would I know.”

“Was that the reason you cried?” Shouto is just teasing, but the grim in Bakugou’s face isn’t a familiar one.

“I told you that didn’t happen!” he growls lowly.

Shouto considers, clueless yet curious. “I’ll tell you about me if you told me about you.”

“Just because you’re vomiting your crisis that I didn’t ask for, doesn’t mean I’m obligated to do the same!”

“Okay, that’s fine too.”

“No, shut-”

“My mom and dad are getting back together.”

Bakugou’s expression mellows to confusion, “That sounds convoluted as hell. Didn’t they just got a divorce or something?”

“They never got a divorce. She’s just sent to a mental hospital and never came home, doesn’t mean the marriage is legally broken.”

The fact seems to sink slow with his explosive friend, “What the fuck.”

Shouto sighs, looking down his jittery hands, his mouth dries. “Last year when I visited my mom, we were talking about the future. She said she’d filed for a divorce, and I’d live with her.” Shouto feels oddly numb, but there’s this dull ache deep in his chest that’s constant. “I should’ve known. She said that before he ‘tried to change’... she said that when everything was still bad, she thought it still happened.”

“What still happened?” Bakugou sounds angry, but he always does.

“I got hurt a lot when I was a kid, because of training. She thought he still hurts me.”

He felt the shoulder beside him tensed. Beside Shouto’s jittery hands is Bakugou’s clenched shaking fist. Shouto looks up from their laps and finds that Bakugou’s face... an eerie stoic.

“Hmmm,” Bakugou hums, and a chill runs down his spine. “When did you start training by the way?” not even a curse in that sentence.

Shouto realizes then, this is Bakugou truly angry, even though Shouto can’t figure out why on earth would he be.

“The day after my quirk manifested.”

His childhood is unforgettable. The day his training starts with fear and pain, then ends with exhaustion and anger. The day Touya never came back, the day his mom left, the longing stare towards the backyard wanting to play with his brother and sister. He remembers it all, like a tattoo in his memory.

“We been knew that Endeavor was an ass but I didn’t know he’s a fucking child abuser.”

The words snap him away from his musing. This time, Bakugou looks angry angry. Teeth-gritting, scowling, boiling anger.

Oh, that’s why he’s angry.

“It was training.”

“Not at five fucking years old you e-boy himbo!” Bakugou barks.

“That’s new, what’s a himbo?”

“Not the fucking point!” Bakugou takes his shoulder away, and suddenly Shouto feels cold. Then he’s held by his shoulders, pinned by sharp maroon eyes, and the lack of warmth turns cold when a growl says, “You’re telling me that your dad’s been abusing you, and no one stopped him? And he’s fucking getting away with it??”

There are so many things wrong with that question and implied statement. One is that it was not abuse. Two is that no one could’ve stopped the then number two hero. Three is that Shouto didn’t tell him any of that but Bakugou assumed anyway.

Shouto doesn’t get to say all of it as Bakugou lets go of him and takes deep breaths. Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly displeased at what he’s thinking.

“Why did you think your mom wants to get back together with your dad?”

Shouto feels relieved now they’re back on topic, “I don’t know. It feels like one moment she’s afraid of him, and now she wants to be with him again. I guess... he did ‘try to be better’. Everyone else seems to forgive him, but I can’t.”

Then Bakugou does something that he didn’t expect, he defends them, “I mean... He’s not that much of a dick now, right? He’s a dick but he was pretty alright when we have a work-study at his agency. And your mom’s better, so maybe they could make it work?”

Shouto knows it’s technically true, but displeasure clawed him still, his blood boiling.

“I don’t care whether it works! I hated that she forgives him so easily!” Shouto shouts.

“Well, that’s selfish of you, isn’t it! It’s her decision, not yours!” Bakugou barks back.

“What the fuck do you know about it?” Shouto spats, he stands up, “They’re going to destroy each other, and what then? Do they want me to just look at their trainwreck while they insist everything is okay? No! I’m not going through that again!”

“You’re just not trusting your mom! Things changed!” Bakugou stands up too, he looks exceptionally angrier than ever.

“No, I don’t. Especially after she said she wanted to get a divorce with him then changing her mind only a year later. Of course, I don’t trust her!”

“But isn’t it better to have both your parents together?”

“No, it doesn’t especially when she’s not happy!”

Bakugou doesn’t bark back, and Shouto only realized how Bakugou’s question was laced with a cracked voice. Shouto looks, only partially surprised that the eyes that look back thinly veiled with tears. The heat in his bloodstream wanes out, more worried/horrified that Bakugou is now openly crying.

This is the worst. Both of them are socially awkward lone wolves that have no idea how and what to do with emotions. So, Shouto does his #best.

“You can tell me.”

Bakugouu glares. Okay, so maybe Shouto’s #best isn’t what he needs.

“Only if you want, if you don’t then it’s okay too.”

“Shut the fuck up, thermostat.”

What else do you do when someone cried? Shouto racks his memories of times when he was crying a lot when he was little, trying to find examples he could follow. He remembers his mom.

“Come here.”

“The fuck are you trying to-”

Shouto cuts him off with a hug. It’s as awkward as it comes. Shouto has his arms around the broad shoulders, his chin hooked on the right side. Shouto doesn’t know how tight he should hug, but it’s enough to press their chest together. Then one of his arms, the left one, rubs Bakugou’s back, emitting a slight warmth. In two languid swipes, Bakugou’s tenseness bleeds slowly.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Shouto says, mimicking what his mom had said once upon a time when he’s upset. “But it’ll be okay. Maybe it’ll take a long time, or it’ll be really hard, but you...” have me, you don’t have to deal with everything alone, was what his mom finished with. He doesn’t know if Bakugou would see him as reliable, but Fuyumi had said that intentions are the most important. “You have your friends, and you have me. I don’t know what will help, but I’ll do it if you asked.”

Shouto surprised himself that he means it. When he encounters an emotionally fragile situation, he usually gets Midoriya, or Urakara, or Momo to handle the situation. With Bakugou however...seeing that his usually prickly friend tipping at the edge like this, Shouto felt like he wants to help. Perhaps it was the camaraderie of the S.S. Emotional Constipation that makes him reach out his personal hand towards Bakugou.

Shouto found another surprise when Bakugou hugs him back, his spiky blond head tucked at the crook of his neck. Shouto also didn’t expect the reflex tears pooling in his eyes at the feeling of tightening arms around his torso. He’s being held, tight and needy. When was the last time he’s held like this? Tears pours without his will when he realized the last time someone hugged him was Touya as Dabi when he was about to burn himself along with Shouto.

They stay there on the rooftop just holding each other as if they’ll fall apart if they don't. When Bakugou lets go, his eyes are even redder than it already is. When those red eyes look up, he noticed the tear streak down Shouto’s face and doesn’t comment about it.

Instead, Bakugou says, “My parents are splitting up.”

Shouto says nothing, only to pull him in his arms again.

They say nothing else as they sit at the same spot on the concrete floor leaning on each other, hand in hand. Shouto instinctually teared up again when he remembered the last time someone holds his hand was his mom as she walked him to a park, all those years ago. Other than that, it was for survival and fighting.

Bakugou leans his head on Shouto’s shoulder first, Shouto says nothing about it. He then leans his face on top of Bakugou’s hair, it feels like a bed of grass, Bakugou says nothing about it too. Shouto realizes that Bakugou can be vulnerable as long as no one points it out. Being untalkative, Shouto can do just that.

The future is scary, especially when their supposed foundation is changing. Bakugou’s foundations are breaking apart, while Shouto had grown accustomed to the torn apart pieces now move together crossing fingers that they fit.

But the future is for tomorrow. The changes are not theirs to make. All they can do now is hold themselves together as everything changes, hoping they don’t break in the process.

Eventually, nightfalls, but none of them moved. Shouto suspects that Bakugou might be sleeping on him.

It’s a suspicion no more when Aizawa found them there, and Bakugou doesn’t stir from being found. Those tired eyes already look exasperated as he finds Shouto’s tear-streaked eyes looking back.

Aizawa sighs, “Is it life-threatening ?”

Shouto knows that the teacher is prone to worries despite his appearance. Their stumble at first year seems to scar him and made him extra vigilant with his students ever since.

“There’s nothing we could do about it,” Shouto says, which is true, but seemingly a wrong thing to say.

“That doesn’t answer my question, trouble child.” Aizawa scowls, which means his worry cranked up to max. “Are the both of you facing a problem that harms you, or threatening your life?”

“It’s nothing like that,” says the bundle of blond in his shoulder. Bakugou sits up and stretches, yawning so big his jaw seems to unhinge a bit. He doesn’t look angry, just tired. “It’s family drama, you know how it is.”

“Is it really just drama?” Aizawa squints at Bakugou, too knowing for someone without a mind-reading quirk.

Bakugou looks at Shouto, searching and prodding. Shouto doesn’t understand what he could be looking for, or what he wants. Bakugou just sighs, “Yeah, just drama.”

Aizawa looks at Shouto too and softens. “If you two need to cuddle you can just do it in your respective room.”

“Nah, too many nosy people.” Bakugou starts to leave.

Shouto follows with a “Good night Sensei.”

Aizawa grunts.

“We can use my Elsa stairs,” Shouto pipes in as he walks alongside him.

Bakugou looks at him and huffs, “Turns out you’re not a himbo after all.”

Since Bakugou won't tell him, Shouto looks up ‘himbo’ himself. This raises a lot of questions about how Bakugou has been seeing him, but Shouto decides that he’d be offended by it.

  ++++++

 You could still be lonely even though you have tons of sibling, or even when they really love you. I guess they just don’t know how to show us they love us.

He really should’ve known. He really should’ve fucking known.

The thought spins in his head as he smoked the last cigarette on his freshly bought pack. No one to catch him this time. It’s the weekend and he’s supposed to be at home, but it’s unbearable to be in the same room with his family. Usually, he could just slurp his soba in feigning ignorance but not now.

He’s sitting by the bench of a lonely park. He’s been sitting here since sun down. He has no idea what time it is. His phone in his pocket is on silent, he hasn’t checked on it since he walked out.

He should’ve stayed at the dorms, fuck the family dinner.

It’s not that Shouto wants things to end up badly. It’s not like he doesn’t want to be home, especially since his mom finally comes home after so many years. Everyone is happy that she’s back, even Natsuo, even his dad. Everyone except her. It looks so hard for her to be there. Shouto can see in her face that some places still hold strong bad memories for her.

His mother is strong because she pulls through. She holds herself through it all even though it seems only barely.

Yet why is he still so angry at her? Maybe not angry, frustrated. Shouto wants to ask her clarity. Why is she doing this? Why did she change her mind? Why come back here? Why not grasp the independence she had been telling Shouto she strived for? Was she coaxed to be here? Was she feeling some kind of responsibility to go back here? To salvage that sham of a marriage she had with Endeavor?

Shouto wants to ask, wants to understand. He crowded her with questions that moment when they said they’d be getting back together, only for his mom to wince, eyes widen, and quickened breath. For the second time in his life, his mom had looked at him with fear. Today, Shouto could barely meet her eyes again.

Is he really such a monster in her eyes just because he’s half his father? Then why go back to his father at all?

Shouto bought half a dozen packs as per tradition. Also because of his self implied tradition, he puts all the ashes in the coffin-shaped ashtray, even though there’s a park ashtray right beside him.

“You carry that everywhere,” Says a groveling voice that Shouto would notice anywhere.

Bakugou is in casuals. Black jeans and a grey hoodie seem like he’s out in a hurry. Just like Shouto.

“You’ve got to stop stalking me,” Shouto inhales deep, watching red amber burns till the filter and sighs.

“Who fucking stalking you Zuko.”

“Zuko doesn’t have-”

“Shut up,” Bakugou plop his ass beside Shouto, sitting waaay too close. He snatched the coffin tin, inspecting it. “Even when you didn’t smoke you carried this.”

“How did you know?”

“It shows your pocket, not big enough for a phone.”

Shouto knows he can’t get away once Bakugou began prying. “My first friend gave it to me.”

“That fucking Deku???”

“No,” Shouto chuckles at the image of Midoriya taking the role of what his first friend did. “It’s someone I met first-year junior high. She gave me this after introducing me to cigarettes.”

“That’s so fucking passive-aggressive I would’ve punched her in her teeth,” Bakugou grumbles, putting the ashtray to Shouto’s lap. “And why the fuck would anyone smoke at thirteen anyway!”

“Exactly because we’re thirteen, Katsuki, just because,” Shouto chuckles again at the memory. Seemingly too carefree from the nicotine, Bakugou had become Katsuki in his tongue. Katsuki bristles at his given name, but says nothing about it. It mysteriously made Shouto very happy.

“Among everything though, she was my first best friend, she teaches me a lot of things that make me who I am. She made me realize that I didn’t have to follow my dad’s wishes. That I can be what I want to be instead of what I was born for. That it’s valid to be lonely even though I technically have a big family. That it’s okay to not strive to be the best and just to be... happy.”

Shouto closes his eyes, remembering her lessons always fell bitter-sweet. But he’ll hold it in his heart forever.

“What you’re born for?” Katsuki says scathingly.

“Yeah, you know about this.” Shouto was told that Katsuki had eavesdropped on his conversation with Midoriya. Shouto was born to fulfill another man’s vendetta. A purpose first, and a son last.

“Seem like a wise person for a thirteen-year-old,” Katsuki sneers.

“She was, I loved her,” Shouto’s confession brings Katsuki’s face to a red grimace.

“Shit, I didn’t ask you to tell me your fucking secrets.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Oh, really?” Katsuki spat bitterly, “Then why are you hiding your girlfriend from us?”

So many things wrong with that question. Shouto raises his eyebrows in surprise, “She’s not my girlfriend, and I’m not hiding her. She’s dead.”

The grimace fell like a hot potato, it would’ve been fun watching how Katsuki splutters if he didn’t look like he’s legit choking. “Holy fuck, that's... fuck, then why the shit you’re so stoic talking about it,” Katsuki seems appalled.

“It happens a long time ago. She seems accepting of her death that I... well I want to respect her decision.” Shouto knows it’s weird to not feel mournful of the departure of your closest friend. He still misses her, but she had been so positive until the very moment she left. Shouto was sure that she’s happy, so Shouto wants to be happy for her.

Katsuki paled, horrified, seemingly to misunderstand again.

“She had a terminal illness. Very likely no chance of survival. She chose to live her remaining time normally instead of undergoing treatment.”

“There’s... There’s no way her parents let her do that.”

“They’re economically challenged. They tried though, just too late in the end.”

“Fuck...” Katsuki cursed, running through his hair roughly. “Never thought you’d be the type of person to have life-changing moments like that.”

“A lot of people have proven to me that everyone has potential to be unexpected, and that’s just how it is.” Shouto looks pointedly at Katsuki, who glares at him in retaliation. “There’s a reason why we’re both here instead of home.”

“Yeah?” Katsuki mumbles, clearly not wanting to talk.

Shouto doesn’t too, to be honest, and yet keeping it in feels more exhausting, “My mom’s home.”

“No shit?” Katsuki was mildly surprised, “So it’s really happening huh.”

“It’s like walking on eggshells with her. I wanted to ask, but last time I did she flinched at me. I couldn’t look at her today.”

Katsuki sighs. This time, Katsuki is the one that scoots over till their shoulders touched all the way to their thighs. The contact makes Shouto breathes easier, he’s drawn to it like moths to a flame. His body goes limp as if it’s been too tense too long from holding itself together, and he drapes himself on top of Katsuki. Shoulder pressed together, his head heavily falls on Katsuki’s shoulder. Instinctually, his hand looks for another hand. Katsuki snakes around his hand and clasps it with his. It’s uncharacteristic, but Shouto finds himself grateful for it.

It’s warm, it’s damp, it’s grounding. Like lying on even earth after running away for so long.

“I don’t want her to be with him under the obligation that parents are supposed to be together for the kids. She’s been through so much, I would’ve understood, but I didn’t know how to say it without triggering her.” Silence follows, and Shouto realized what he said. “Sorry, uh, I’m not insinuating-”

“Shut up candy cane, I know.” Katsuki leans closer, his head on top of Shouto’s.

It’s warm, just what he needs in the middle of an emotional crisis at the beginning of November. It’s a bit out of character for Katsuki to do this, nor Shouto, neither of them are known for physical contact or talking about their personal lives. Yet here they are.

And Katsuki speaks anyway, “They’re fighting.”

Shouto, contrary to what Katsuki called him, isn’t a himbo. He knows who they are and he knows what a fight could entail.

“Did they hurt each other when they fight?” Shouto asks, then mused even if they did, could Katsuki do anything about it? Shouto couldn’t back then.

“No!” Katsuki says, indignant, “Of course not, they’re just bitching at each other about... about... I don’t know, it’s fucking stupid.”

“Hm, that’s good.”

“Fucking hell it’s good, they’re being idiotic!”

“They’re not hurting each other.”

Katsuki paused, his hands clenched tighter, “Did he hurt your mom when they fight?”

Shouto takes a deep inhale at the surge of memory. The fear that settles is old, he knows. Just leftover trauma that never went away, still, it bubbled to the surface, makes his skin cold.

Not trusting his voice, Shouto nods.

“They were fighting about me,” Katsuki says after a while, his voice a bit shaky, and Shouto knows better than to point it out. He keeps his head on the shaking shoulder and listens. “They didn’t know I was listening, they never did. They never... Turn-Turns out they didn’t even plan on having me.”

Katsuki holds his hand tighter and trembling.

“I’m a fucking accident,” Katsuki spat, venom dripping in every word. “Then they had a shotgun wedding, they didn’t even love each other at all.”

Shouto hears one escape of a sniff and lets himself relax, feigning clueless that Katsuki must’ve been crying. He lets the silence stretches until the hand holding his relaxed and the shaking subsides. Shouto had the same breakdown before. It downs to him that they’re not so different after all, children of a loveless relationship. Though he wonders if that instantly means he’s unloved. It had felt that way, but now... now it feels so much complicated than yes or no.

“Does it matter why we’re born?” Shouto hears a deep inhale of an incoming rant but he cuts it off with, “We’re our own person, with our own lives, and our own dreams. No one can tell us otherwise. Not even the one who makes us.” Shouto pauses and listens, what came to his ears is soft breathing, so he continues. “So what you’re not planned? That doesn’t mean you’re unwanted,” Shouto rubs his thumb over the damp knuckles, “You’re not unloved.”

Because Shouto had been to the Bakugo residence. Bakugou Mitsuki is as explosive as he is, but he can see her adoring stare at her son even when she’s scolding him. Bakugou Masaru is softer, always trying to calm both of them and giving small smiles when Shouto tells him stories about his son at school.

“What the fuck do you know, water dispenser?” Katsuki lowly growls, but it doesn’t have that biting hate, he doesn’t move away from Shouto.

So Shouto only hums and lets the silence stretch. He grabs the ashtray with his other hand, rubbing the plain surface with his thumb, remembering her, thanking her.

“What’s her name?” Katsuki says after minutes of silence, his voice with less snarl.

“Arisu.”

“... I’m sorry you lost her.”

And that’s what happened, isn’t it? Shouto may be able to let her go, but she’s still lost to him. Still hurts, Shouto still mises her. “Thank you.”

They didn’t let go of each other until Shouto’s phone rings. It’s Natsuo. His brother is just as unhappy about their parents' reunion, though for him it’s more about hating their dad and less about questioning their mother as Shouto did. Natsuo called to offer to spend the rest of the weekend at his place. Shouto immediately agrees, then he remembers Katsuki.

“Is it okay if I bring one of my friends?”

Katsuki instantly glowers at him.

“Who?”

“Katsuki.”

“Who??”

“Bakugou.”

“Oh, yeah sure. Buy some dinner on the way, I didn’t get to eat much.”

“Okay, me too.”

As soon as they hang up, Katsuki bares his teeth.

“Who says I’ll go with you, Pokeball?” His voice raised a bit, his arms crossing defensively.

“I’m not, I said if. You don’t have to, but if you want, you can.”

“No one fucking asked you for shelter,” Katsuki scoffs, facing away.

“I know...” Shouto knows Katsuki would rather leave than accept help. The only way he accepts it is that if no one acknowledges it. He knows Katsuki can take care of himself, but Shouto is the one that doesn’t want him to leave just yet. Shouto knows he’ll go back to Natsuo’s place only to hear him bitch about Endeavor when the real problem is with their mom and her odd decision.

“Can’t you just stay for dinner?” The desperation in his voice is real, Katsuki seems to notice it and is bewildered by it. “Please?”

Katsuki’s eyes widen at the magic word because no, Shouto doesn’t say it often, much less towards Katsuki, he had enough ego already.

Nose flared and fist clenched, Katsuki finally barks, “Fine! But we’re cooking instead of ordering take-out, I fucking know what you’re gonna get you soba simp. Your brother better has a kitchen.”

“He does,” Shouto replies, the upbeat tone in his voice is rare. Can you blame him? He’s excited that he’s not coming home, and Katsuki goes with him with his admittedly superior cooking.

At Natsuo’s apartment, Shouto helped Katsuki cook, nothing more than chopping stuff. Natsuo gave him a brief summary of what happened at home after Shouto left, but thankfully, he’s not saying too much because Katsuki is there. Once Natsuo finished talking and left to get beers, Shouto gives Katsuki an arm squeeze of thanks. Katsuki only grunts.

Dinner is ‘simple’ in Katsuki’s opinion. Stir-fried vegetables, miso soup, and hamburg steak. As always, it’s delicious, and Natsuo who’s none the wiser to Katsuki’s God-like cooking skill is blown away.

They’re in the living area on the sofa watching TV when Shouto scoots closer again. Natsuo is in his room studying.

“You can stay here for the rest of the weekend if you want,” Shouto says, bumping shoulders.

Katsuki frowns, eyes on the screen. “I don’t have my change of clothes with me.”

“You can borrow mine, I have some here.”

“Ran away a lot don’t you?” Katsuki sneers.

“You have no idea,” Shouto admits.

The sneer falls, “Why?”

“Just because I finally can.”

“You couldn’t before?”

Shouto shakes his head, finding his head heavy, so he lays his head on Katsuki’s shoulder again. “Before he was number one, he insists on using all my free time on training. If I didn’t, he’d take my phone, or the internet, or my manga, even burned them on some occasion. He even flushed my pet fish, rest in peace Kiya. Then he’s number one, and the dorms are established... so...”

Shout shrugs. He doesn’t reach for Katsuki’s hand this time, just pressed against him, afraid if he pushed then Katsuki would retract. Shouto doesn’t want to stop his newfound comfort just yet.

Then his hand is grasped by a firm clammy hand. Shouto keeps thinking of how Katsuki’s sweaty hands must be because of the nitroglycerin of his quirk. If he’s not thinking about Katsuki’s quirk then he’d think about how it makes his heart skipped a beat that Katsuki initiates the touch again. So yeah, clammy hands that hold him tight.

“Why didn’t you tell anybody?” Katsuki says, weaker than he’s accustomed to. It makes Shouto wary.

“I don’t know what is there to tell.”

A groan stretches, “What do I do with you?”

“Hey...” Shouto mock complains “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Does he still train you like that?”

Shouto feels a bit of whiplash with all these questions. Katsuki has been asking personal questions left and right, and Shouto doesn’t understand why answering it doesn’t feel as hard as usual.

“No, not since he became number 1.”

Katsuki scoffs, “Got what he wanted didn’t he?”

“Sometimes I wonder if that’s the case. When he got it, he didn’t seem happy, just angry. Then he started wanting the family he broke to get that number one spot.”

That renders Katsuki to another bout of silence. He knows Katsuki strives to be number one too, and at first, Shouto had ridiculed him about it. Why does a superficial title mean so much anyway? Katsuki changed over the years though, with Midoriya being the main cause of it.

Heart on his throat, Shouto dare asks, “Hey, Katsuki? Why do you want to be a hero?”

Katsuki tensed, but Shouto holds him tighter, “Why are you getting nosy all of the sudden?”

Shouto knows he’s not getting things easy, “I just wanna know.”

“Yeah, that’s nosy.”

“No, I just want to get to know you.” Shouto bites his lips as soon as the words left, was that too forward?

They’re not looking at each other, but Shouto can feel the glare directed at him. “Why?”

“We’ve been friends for a while...”

“We’re not fucking friends-!”

“...But I feel like I’m taking you for granted. I didn’t even know you’re going through something so big.” Some friend I am, Shouto broods.

It takes a few seconds, but Katsuki defeatedly sighs, and Shouto smiles in victory, “At first, I just want to be the best.”

“Best at what?”

“Everything...” Katsuki muses, his head knocked back, “Then I realized that it was an impossible goal... Did a lot of thinking, did a lot of uh, self-reflecting. Started talking to Ito-san too. I realized that I just want to be needed.”

It makes sense why Katsuki is here then. Shouto wished he could outright say that he needs him so Katsuki would stay longer, but just imagining him doing so already makes him pink in embarrassment.

Ito-san is the school counselor, her doors are open for every UA student. Shouto had half the mind to go to her, but there’s always this weight of silence from being a son of a high-profile hero. Endeavor always drilled him about secrecy and how he shouldn’t say anything about his family to anyone or it’ll ruin everything. It’s the reason why Arisu was his only friend, she was dying, and she did take his secret to her grave. Shouto still feels guilty about that.

“Have you ever talked to Ito-san?” Katsuki asked as if reading his mind.

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

“Everything that comes out of my mouth is tabloid-worthy. Endeavor had drilled me from way young that I can’t run my mouth about our lives. He’s right about that at least, I didn’t want paparazzi swarming us demanding half-assed rumors if I can help it. It had happened before, someone even sneaked into my mom’s hospital to reach her. I guess... that’s also why I never told anyone at all about anything.”

“You told Arisu didn’t you?”

Shouto bites his lip, guilt gnaws at him, “Because I know she won't carry my secrets long enough.” Please don’t hate me. Shouto’s grip on Katsuki tighten.

“But you told Deku, you told me.”

“Well, I trust you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing. “You sure you don’t want to stay over?”

Katsuki leans away, and the cold strikes immediately. Shouto leans back, pointedly not looking at red irises.

“Fine.”

Shouto quickly looks up, then he finds Katsuki’s face odd. There’s something familiar with it. He’s... smiling, only slightly, but it’s a smile, and his eyes aren’t furrowed or angry or glaring. His eyebrows relaxed and he looks.... soft. Maybe Shouto fell asleep and currently dreaming.

“I’ll need to call my parents first,” Katsuki says after clearing his throat, looking away a bit flushed.

“Sure, I’ll get you settled.”

Shouto is half excited half worried. He told Natsuo that Katsuki will be borrowing the couch, which only replied with a hum while his eyes doesn’t leave the book. His brother is not unfamiliar with runaways. Shouto isn’t the only one seeking shelter at his place.

Shouto passes the balcony where Katsuki is screaming at his phone. Shouto can only hear muffles, but he gives Katsuki some privacy and gets some spare clothes. When Shouto sees that Katsuki is still on the phone even after ten minutes have passed, he takes the liberty of taking a shower first.

When Shouto walks out, he finds Katsuki sitting by the sofa, his hands suspiciously inflamed. He faces the screen but looking particularly nowhere. Shouto had seen those empty looks before.

“Katsuki?”

He jerks slightly as his name is called. Katsuki schooled his expression to a careful stoic, walls up. No matter, Shouto thinks, sometimes you don’t need to tear down walls to help a person, just hold their hand through the gate.

“Go take a shower, bath’s warm.”

Katsuki nods, taking the towel Shouto offered and the spare clothes. Shouto makes tea, for him, his brother, and Katsuki. Shouto delivers the cup of tea to Natsuo’s room, seems like the books are multiplying around his brother.

“Tea,” Shouto says before putting it on a coaster.

“Thanks.” Natsuo finally looks away from the book and takes a sip. “That Bakugou, how is he?” Natsuo asks, knowing that Shouto only brings his friend here in a dire situation.

The only other person he brought was Kaminari, believe it or not. Kaminari had said he didn’t want to come home for the weekend because he was scared of facing his parents after he came out via text. From the replies, it hadn’t been good. Kaminari spent the rest of the stay switching between sobbing and full-on crying. Only God knows why Kaminari asked him instead of any of the Baku-squad, but Kaminari is still his friend too, so Shouto provides.

But today with Katsuki is different though. Shouto had to beg him to stay, whether it’s for the benefit of him or Shouto the line had blurred.

“Hopefully he will be,” Is all Shouto can offer. Natsuo nods before going back to his book.

Shouto lays out his futon in the living room adjacent to the sofa. He’s laying down, scrolling at his phone. Putting his dad on read and ignoring Fuyumi’s and mom’s chatbox. He opted to look at cat videos instead. Soon, Katsuki came out of the bathroom, drank the offered tea, and laid down on the sofa.

They spent probably an hour separately looking at their phones when Shouto finally calls it a night. He turned off the lights, and tuck himself in. Before he said goodnight, Shouto thinks and his desires take.

“Wanna hang out tomorrow?” he asked.

Blood red eyes look at him from the screen, “Where?”

Shouto shrugs, “I don’t know, just around, get my mind off things. There’s a cat cafe I’ve been wanting to see, then we’ll go from there.”

Katsuki stares, seemingly thinking it over, “Have you ever been to a rock climbing gym?”

“A what?”

Katsuki smirks, sharp-teethed and evil, “Oh you’re in for a fucking experience, red velvet oreo.”

Shouto is a bit suspicious, even so, he finds himself looking forward to tomorrow.

  +++++

 I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but you shouldn’t think that way. Of course you’ll have more friends. You’re more lovable than you think, Shouto.

Something changed between them after that weekend. Comfort grows between them. Comfort that they don’t want to let go just yet, perhaps not anytime soon.

The bad thing about it is that everyone notices. Everyone.

To their friend's credit though, they came to school together, walking very close to each other. It was fully initiated by Shouto, but Katsuki didn’t snap or push him away, so he assumed everything is okay.

Everything is absolutely not okay because the moment he walks to class everyone has eyes on them. Shouto thought it won’t matter to him, but Katsuki tends to be defensive. When Katsuki is defensive, he pushes people away. Shouto tried not to watch Katsuki for the whole class.

Momo noticed, of course, but she notices more than superficial things.

“Shouto,” Momo whispers, “Everything alright?”

Shouto gives her a smile and nods.

It’s not until they’re getting up for lunch that Shouto is tested in a form of Kirishima.

“Bakubro! How long have you been dating Todobro?”

The world screech halt, and Kirishima tensed at the sudden chill he’s feeling. When Kirishima found the source of burning in his back, he sees Shouto, glaring hard and terrifyingly at him. Face darkens, pupils small, ready to kill.

Kirishima squeaks, “He-hey, uh-”

“Back off Kiri, it’s none of your business,” is all Katsuki says. Not even a scream, just a conversational tone as if he’s bored. No defensiveness, no snarling at Shouto in retaliation. “The fuck are yall extras staring at? Move outta my way, I’m hungry!” Then he left.

No one is barging Shouto with questions instead. It’s out of character of his classmates to not poke their nose in something juicy, but as he drops his butt at his chair, he finds himself alone in class.

Shouto is left in class with a big wave of relief, so much that he couldn’t stand. Why is it that the thought of Katsuki pushing him away scares him this much?

A hand landed on his desk, he looks up to find Momo’s honest stare, “Something is not alright.”

Shouto sighs, “No.”

Unlike Katsuki, Momo never pries, only assuring that she’s there for him. Unlike Momo, Katsuki understands that some things can’t be fixed, wherein if he opens up to Momo and some others, they tried to help by fixing. The number of times his friends told him, again and again, to go to Ito-san when they found out about Dabi being his brother is an exhausting amount. Maybe that’s why Shouto has been more comfortable with laying his problems to Katsuki.

So he eats lunch with Momo in the silence of comfortable company, and there’s just that.

  +++++

 Thank you for being there for me. You’re the bestest best friend I could ever wish for. And you won’t be lonely for long, you’ll see.

Shouto has peaceful days following that first Monday. His comfort with Katsuki doesn’t change. Though they don't get together on the rooftop anymore (Iida never let go of his key since Katsuki managed to steal it), they still gravitate towards each other whenever they don’t feel particularly great.

Katsuki would approach and say things like, “They want me home this weekend.”

“You wanna stay at the dorms or my place?”

“Can’t. I know they wanted to talk to me about who I wanna stay with.”

“We can make up an excuse if you want.”

“Hm.”

Then they spent the rest of the day together, just sitting at the school’s lawn, looking at particularly nothing. And if they sit too close together and their clasped hands only partially hidden by their legs, no one pointed it out.

Shouto would approach and say things like, “Fuyumi wants to call me, I know she’s just gonna talk about how I’m tearing the family apart.”

Katsuki snaps from his bed towards the window where Shouto is stepping down from his Elsa stairs.

Katsuki’s shock then turns to fury, “Your sister, Fuyumi, THAT Fuyumi said that to you?”

“She wanted the family together. I think she’s frustrated that I keep making my parents' union difficult.”

“You know what, her spicy mapo tofu isn’t that delicious anyway!” Katsuki barks his hands clenched down mini-explosions. It’s one of Katsuki’s outbursts that Shouto doesn’t understand, nor does he understand why her mapo tofu is related in any way, so he doesn’t comment.

“I’m gonna head up to the roof, wanna come?”

“No, you’ll just smoke and you’d give me fucking cancer.”

Shouto feels cold, Katsuki had never said no from hanging out before, “Fine.”

“Who said you can leave? Come here!” Katsuki held his ankle from the balcony, gripping tight.

Shouto blinks, remembering what Aizawa-sensei had said some days ago. “Oh, are we gonna cuddle?”

Katsuki’s face set aflame, “Just fucking come in here Katy Perry, before I yank you by your stupid Poland flag hair.”

Shouto finds himself obeying at the thought of cuddling, but then confused, “Why Katy Perry?”

“Hot and cold.”

“I guess that’ll make sense if I know who Katy Perry is but.”

Katsuki spat a curse, “Alright, time for a session of pop culture.”

“But I already had them with Mina and Sero”

“And they’re doing a shit job about it if you didn’t know the person that shapes a whole ass generation.”

It started with a music video of Hot and Cold by Katy Perry and ends with a retelling biography of Lady Gaga. Who knew Katsuki is so knowledgeable about female pop stars.

“TELL ANYONE AND DIE,” He said after Shouto pointed it out.

Most important of all, they did cuddle. They were sitting on the bedside then suddenly they’re laying down side by side. They’re watching a gameplay video of a Swedish man playing a horror game, another important role in pop culture as Katsuki said. It’s an old video, and Katsuki said that the man owns some part of Antarctica, which Shouto knows it’s some kind of an inside joke.

The nights getting late, and Shouto is reminded of the text on his phone, how it vibrates occasionally. Shouto has been in Katsuki’s room for four hours, but he doesn’t want to go back to his room.

Katsuki notices him lingering, “You wanna stay here for the night?”

Shouto looks up from Katsuki’s phone with big sparkling eyes, “You sure?”

“Tch, I wouldn’t have offered if I don’t.” Katsuki looks away, exposing his neck that seems red to the tip of his ears, “It’ll be a little cramp though with my single bed.”

“I don’t mind it. Just don’t kick me out of bed.”

“No promises.”

Katsuki didn’t. He curled away from Shouto as soon as the blankets tucked.  Their backs pressed against each other because of the small space. Shouto finds it hard to fall asleep, could be the new environment or the gnawing anxiety.

He’ll admit that Fuyumi is his favorite sibling. She’s there for him when he was condemned in that lonely manor only to train and study. Fuyumi stays back for him, tend to his wounds, cook for him, keep him company. Natsuo had left and rarely come back, even though he’s there for Shouto in the end.

Then his dad had a bootleg redemption arc and Fuyumi dropped him like hot potato and shoved both of them together despite what Shouto feels about his dad. When his parents are getting back together, Fuyumi stopped consoling Shouto and started to support them blindly. So desperate to have their family together. Doesn’t she know that there’s nothing to salvage? Doesn’t she remember what he did?

“I can hear you from here, air conditioner,” Katsuki grumbles, his back vibrates, “Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying.”

Shouto can’t stop thinking, can’t stop getting angry and getting hurt. It hurts when his sister is pointing the blame at Shouto, it hurts even more when it’s kind of true. It hurts that despite his fear of facing her, he still owes her a call at least. He’ll never be ready for what she’s about to say, never be ready to be hurt by her. Shouto turns around and buries his face at Katsuki’s back, ducking under the cover.

“What is it?’ Katsuki asks, not demanding, but Shouto’s floodgates are opened.

“I don’t understand how they could forgive him. He hurts mom, he hurts Touya to a point that he left and hates us, and he... he hurts me. It’s just training but-but- fine, okay, it hurt and I was scared most of the time that he’s not gonna pull his punches. Fuyumi forgives him so easily, and mom just went back in there even though they were never in love in the first place. It’s like they’ve forgotten what he had done, how deeply he scars all of us. Like what- like what happened didn’t matter.” Shouto’s voice breaks the whole time, a sob escaped in between the jumbled words and he’s trying so hard, so hard not to cry.

Katsuki turns around, his arms wrapped around Shouto’s hunched shoulders. A burnt sweet scent hits his nostrils, his face pressed against a defined neck and collarbones. All tenseness bleeds away when Katsuki starts rubbing his back, and tears break from his eyes without his will. Shouto wraps his arms around his friend’s torso, feeling his chest constrict when Katsuki mercifully says nothing about the silent tears landing on his chest.

He shuts his lips, pressing tightly because he’s not sobbing to Katsuki’s chest. They’re comfortable with each other but not that comfortable... right? Shouto’s tolerance to breakdown cries is thanks to exposure to crying most of his childhood, the same can’t be said for Katsuki. The hug is enough, it’s everything. Shouto never realized how much he craved being touched until that day Katsuki sits way too close to him.

His lips pressed tight keeping from sobbing, but his hands tremble on Katsuki’s back instead.

“Damn, you’re touch starved aren’t you,” Katsuki sighs to his hair, his face buried there.

“I didn’t know,” Shouto’s voice shaking pathetically, breaking at the edge and Shouto is too torn to care about it.

“Me too.”

Shouto doesn’t know which one Katsuki meant, but neither let go until they sleep.

  ++++++

 I love you too, Shouto. Don’t be scared of letting people in, okay? Not all of them are gonna leave you, I promise.

Things get rough, but their comfort pushes each other through.

Katsuki chooses to stay with his dad, but he’s co-parenting with his mom. Katsuki spends his weekends at both their house, switching every weekend. There’s still tenseness between his parents, and Katsuki explodes whenever his dad or mom asks Katsuki about the other. ‘Stop fucking asking me! If you wanna know so much then you shouldn’t have gotten the divorce!’ Katsuki doesn’t want to hear their reasoning, feeling better to just accept the change and move on, but Shouto thinks he’s just not ready to hear it. Sometimes Katsuki stays at the dorms with Shouto or the Todoroki estate when he gets overwhelmed.

Shouto finally talks to his mom. At first, it didn’t go anywhere. She’s as unsure as Shouto, but her willingness to try and salvage the marriage is as honest as it comes, even though her feelings might not be there yet. It feels like hearing Fuyumi talk, hearing the same desperation and blindness in putting things together. It’s hard to understand her foolishness, but Shouto tried to trust her. Shouto’s opinion might have been persuaded a little when his father announced that they’ll be moving houses due to mom’s tense reaction to the place. It’s a plus that his dad is willing to do that for his wife, but Shouto is still keeping an eye on them.

Then things get better, but their comfort doesn’t stop. Shouto is comfortable in following his desires without questioning them, but he quizically finds that Katsuki seeks him too even though he no longer approach Shouto with that near tears scowl, and situation bomb.

“How’s your mom?” Katsuki asked out of the blue under the summer blue sky. They’re sitting by the school lawn, their backs to a tree trunk, their friends strangely been leaving them alone.

“She’s fine.”

“Then why did you want to meet here?” Katsuki murmurs, looking down at the comic book Shouto lends him but not reading it. The tips of his ears are red.

Oh, Katsuki is testing the waters, “I just want to be with you.”

Katsuki flushes, “Ew, where the fuck did you even get that cheesy line.”

Shouto pays the snark no mind. “We haven't had any excuses for being together lately, do we?”

Katsuki hums.

“Do you not like it?”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki grumbles.

“Say... If I ask you to go to a cat cafe this Saturday, will you go?”

“Satan in hell, cat cafe again? I still have fucking fur on my black jacket from the previous visit! I felt like we’ve been to all the cat cafes in the country!”

Shouto pouts, “That’s not possible.”

“Let’s go hiking instead.”

“Okay.”

Katsuki twist his head towards him, “You would?”

“Just us two right?”

“Obviously, there’s no way I’m taking those extras. Those nature documentaries made them wimps.”

Shouto only listened to the first word he uttered, “I’ll go with you.”

Then Katsuki looks him that way again. Soft eyes, relaxed eyebrows, fond stares, and the most devastating of all, a small genuine smile.

“Cool. Come to my place, we have to wake up early. I miss seeing the sunset there, it’s awesome.” There’s light in his maroon eyes, excited to go, and he’s taking Shouto with him to his hobby, his precious place.

Shouto feels warmth radiating from his chest all the way down to his toes, a smile blooms on his face. He’s been feeling this mysterious warmth pretty often lately, only now has he realized that Shouto is happy and that he hasn’t been lonely despite his current family strain.

Katsuki’s rambling about his favorite hiking spot is cut short when Shouto leans in to kiss the corner of his lips. The smile is exchanged with shocked parted lips. Shouto feels himself shrink by the silence of Katsuki’s loud mouth and the pinning stare of his sharp eyes. Blood rushed to Shouto’s cheeks, knowing that he’s blushing up a storm, suddenly nervous.

“Is that okay?” Shout asks, too cowardly to say that he wants more, closer, to continue being together for no reason at all other than just because.

“No.”

He’s grabbed by the face, and a pair of lips pressed against his. Shouto expected to be bitten, his head clawed, and his lips bruised. But the weeks he spent with Katsuki should’ve made him know better. Because the gentle hands cradling his face, the complete capture of his lips, and the soft nips are all unsurprising. Shouto melts away, leaning his whole weight so they’re chest to chest. He grabs Katsuki by the hips, pulling closer, kissing back.

Katsuki hums, and the vibration echoes on Shouto’s body deliciously. Katsuki’s lips taste sweet and hot as it moves to nibble Shouto’s bottom lip. The hands cupping his face moves past his neck. One is clutching his back and the other plays with the hair at the back of his head. Fingers card gently around his nape and Shouto has a whole body shiver.

Then the lips go missing, and Shouto goes limp in Katsuki’s arms, gasping for breath on his chest.

“And that’s how you kiss, Strawberry Shortcake,” Katsuki says smugly, patting Shouto’s back condescendingly.

Shouto scoffs and leans back. Katsuki still has that fond eyes as he looks at him, but now paired with a cheeky smirk. Shouto wants to kiss that too, and Shouto does.

From then on, it’s expected that he sometimes steps down his icy stairs just to cuddle with Katsuki, and it’s perfectly acceptable that Katsuki barges into his room and starts pulling his hand towards wherever he wants.

They’d still bicker sometimes, and sometimes Shouto unintentionally steps on some lines that set Katsuki to explode. Sometimes Katsuki is frustrated with him. Those days they fight makes him nervous.

But they always say their apologies eventually. Katsuki always comes back and tries again with him. Even when the fights are between them, they eventually get over it and get better while they’re still leaning onto each other for comfort.

Eventually, Shouto keeps the coffin ashtray in his keepsake instead of his pocket.

He’d like to think that he can finally let her go now that she’s proven right.

Shouto finds someone that loves him, someone that makes him happy, and someone that doesn’t leave.

 ++++

nicknames that didn't make it: Colgate toothpaste, hot pocket, tide pod, dry ice. nicknames that I magically forgot: Half and half.

Tag yourself as Shouto’s nickname, I’m water dispenser.

[mickmarstookmyheart]

More Espresso, Less Despresso

Part: 3/?

Pairing: Mick Mars X Reader

Summary: You have a decent conversation with your mom about Mick.

(pic from Pinterest)

You couldn't recall when was the last time you laughed that much while you were at the studio with the Crüe. Tommy was a total goofball, Nikki was kind yet a bit high, and Vince was like a gay friend you were aching for years. Doc seemed the smartest one among them, of course, beside Mick. After you all ate the food you had brought they started to tell stories of the previous concerts and backstage moments. You had a deja vu but not in a good way. Memories and feelings crossed your mind as the hours passed.

"Are you alright? You look a bit pale." Mick asked with a concerned look in his eyes. You had been quiet in the last ten minutes and he noticed it. At first, he thought it was because of your introverted self, but then he saw the tears in your eyes.

"Yeah, I'm okay." You sighed blinking fast to get rid of the tears. You didn't want to be weak. You wanted to forget that whole era of your life. And now, you were in the same deep pit.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" Vince yelled, putting his feet on the table. "You are coming with us right?" The blood froze in your veins and you even forgot how to breathe properly. You gulped then put a smile on.

"I don't know, Vince. I barely know you and-"

"That's the point! We want to get to know you." You weren't the most spontaneous one. At least, not anymore. Joining a band on tour after one day was quite a big deal. And your mother wouldn't be so happy either. On the other hand, you weren't sure if you wanted to tag along. You had enough.

"Vinnie, you met her hours ago. You couldn't force her to come with us." Nikki said. "Right, (Y/N)?"

"Yeah." You smiled.

"Well, you know where we are going so feel free to come and see us on a show." Vince winked and drank from his beer.

"Just call me and I will give you a pass." Doc added.

"Thanks, guys, really. But I think I gotta go now." You jumped down from the top of the piano and headed to the door.

"Why so soon?" Tommy pouted standing in front of you blocking the way. He didn't help your situation. You felt horrible and just wanted to go home.

"Please, Tommy." You said shyly. But he didn't move just smirked. You knew he just joked but you weren't in the mood.

"Drummer. Let her go." Mick snapped from behind earning a sigh from Tommy. He stepped aside but patted your back.

"See you soon." He grinned and hopped down on the couch next to his Terror Twin. They were so kind, you hated yourself for leaving. However, you know that you wouldn't enjoy yourself. You wouldn't be able to distract yourself from the memories they all brought back.

"Bye, guys!" You waved and left the room with Mick by your side. After he closed the door you let out a long breath you didn't realize you were holding. You didn't say a word until you weren't in the streets again. "I'm sorry." Mick turned to you while walking with raised brows.

"For what?"

"For leaving so early." You shrugged and adjusted your coat tighter. "I didn't feel like a good company."

"Yeah, I saw that something was up. Wanna talk about it?" You shook your head as a no. You weren't ready to talk about that. You didn't want to tell him the reason you moved there with your mom. Why you were the girl reading in a café. The introvert one, the shy one. Why you had to hide behind this disguise.

"Everything is alright, Mick. Nothing serious, I promise." You showed your most believable smile which he loved. He noticed that you were lost in your thoughts and those thoughts made you sad. He saw that something snapped suddenly after Vince asked but he didn't want to ask there. He asked it now but you didn't feel like telling him and he respected that.

"Got it." He stopped and stood in front of you. "But if you are feeling down or wanna talk about anything I'm here, okay?" He rested his hands on your shoulders. "And it's the most obvious thing to talk to each other every night, right?"

"Of course. Though I will miss my caffeine buddy." You sighed.

"Well, if you visit us at one of our concerts I will take you to the finest café nearby and we will drink a huge amount of that!"

"Pinky Promise?" You asked pointing at him.

"Sure, whatever it is." He looked puzzled but chuckled anyways when you intertwined your little finger with his. "Then you have to promise to me that you will come to a concert as soon as possible."

"I promise." You winked and continued walking home.

∆

"Hey, mom!" You yelled as soon as you stepped in the house and hung your coat.

"Hello, honey! I'm in the kitchen!" She shouted back as she was flipping pancakes. You sniffed in the air and hummed from the delicious smell. You stepped next to her and placed a kiss on her cheek making her smile. You loved your mom more than anyone, even yourself. She was there for you when you needed the most, where you needed the most. She always knew how to cheer you up and make you happy. She knew you better than yourself.

"Smells good." You smirked.

"Thanks. So where have you been? How was your day?" She asked glancing at you while placing the pancake on a plate.

"The café." You lied. Well, you didn't lie just didn't tell your whole day. "Read a book, drank a cappuccino as always."

"Sounds interesting. And boring. Why don't you find a book club so you can meet new people?"

"I like being on my own." You said filling your mouth full with pancakes sitting on the counter. You tried to distract the topic but it was hell hard. "And what about you, mom?"

"But it's not healthy being alone all the time." She insisted making you groan and roll your eyes. "Don't grimace, young lady. And yes, you need to find new friends. Who may help you forget the old ones..." She sighed.

"I like the old ones. But you are right. I need to forget them as all those years from that era." You lowered your head staring at your black leather boots. She was right you knew that. And you did find friends just not the right ones. The guys didn't help you forget, on the contrary. "But enough about me. Do you like your new workplace? Is your boss handsome?"

"Hey!" She threw the kitchen towel right on your face from that last statement. "And to answer your question...FUCK YES! He is tall, dark-haired, and has blue eyes..."

"So basically, your type." You giggled watching her faking fainting.

"Girl, you know me so well!" She laughed. "And his voice...I can listen to it for eternity." She sighed hearts all around her head.

"Then, you are in the best position you can ever be. Being his assistant means hearing his thunderous voice. All. Day. Long." You pointed at her with your fork stressing the last words.

"Don't play with me. And? What about you? Don't tell me you haven't met Prince Charming in that café you go to every day." She glanced at you, but you were staring down avoiding eye contact. "So you've already met him, haven't you?" She asked in a low voice.

"You could say that." You jumped down from the counter and headed upstairs but your mother grabbed your wrist before you could reach the stairs. You didn't know if you should tell her or not. You have a deep connection with your mom, you told everything to each other so she would listen to you. However, her reaction would be quite controversial.

"(Y/N). I could see that there is something wrong." She placed her hand on your cheek giving you a warm smile. "Come. Let's eat then you can tell me everything."

"I'm not hungry. I will start now. So there is a guy." You began.

"Let me guess. Black hair, sarcasm, music lover. Am I right?" Your mom interrupted.

"Damn, mom!" You snapped glaring at her.

"Okay, I will shut it. But was I right?"

"Of course, you were, goddamn. He came to me at that café while I was reading and we started to talk. We have many things in common, more than we should, actually. He is kind, generous, and is a great company." Your stomach did a backflip just thinking about it. At the same time, your heart was aching since you knew it won't be the same. It wasn't your café, not your usual coffee, not the squeaking chair you usually sat on and not the old-fashioned table with the blue cloth covering it.

"Sounds good to me." She frowned.

"Promise me you won't freak out." You looked deep in her eyes making sure she understood what you asked. She nodded so you took a deep breath and prepared yourself. "He is a musician, more precisely, he plays in a rock band. And I know what will you say but please let me finish it!"

"Alright." She swallowed and clenched her jaws.

"They are leaving town tomorrow and when they asked me if I would like to join...I said no. Did you hear me? I said no!" You gripped her hand firmly. You didn't like when she was making that face and it broke your heart. She was disappointed, sad, furious at the same time if that was possible. "I won't meet them again if you tell me not to. But please let me meet Mick once more. Just once so I can say goodbye." You sobbed.

"Honey, you don't need permission for that." She gave you a half-smile. "I trust you, I believe that you know what is good for you. And you are an adult now, you can do whatever you like. Things happened in the past, that's why we moved here. To leave those awful and horrible events which occurred there." She gulped and pressed her eyes together trying to erase those memories from her mind. Drugs, booze, rock and roll, death.

"I love you, mom and I'm so grateful. To have such an understanding and strong mom like you." You stood up, walked over to her, and hugged her tightly. She was the strongest person you've ever known. She lost a son, you lost a brother. And still, she managed to put a smile on her face whenever you felt down, desperate. Moved to another city, found a new job, and continued being the coolest mom on Earth.

"Your brother would be so proud." She sighed letting you go. Despite the fact that your brother overdosed, she still talked about him like it hadn't been his fault. She got over it and tried to remember her son as he was before the drugs. Lively, creative, and cheerful.

"So, this means I can visit them? On the tour?" You asked with full of hope.

"If you can take care of yourself and avoid all those things, then, of course, darling. I want you to be happy and somehow that guy makes you that. I can see it in your eyes and the way you talk about him." She smirked.

∆

Days, weeks, months passed. Lonely days, sitting in the café, reading books. Every time the bell rang above the door you glanced up to see who it was. It wasn't him. You have pretty mixed feelings. Although your mother was okay with it, you just couldn't make your finger pushed those buttons on the telephone. Every time you tried, you just put the phone back to its place and continued suffering.

On the other hand, you were afraid. Scared to see them using drugs and killing themselves with it. You wouldn't survive. You have already seen your brother passing out on the couch while injecting heroin in his veins and it was the most horrible thing you've ever gone through. You shook your head to get rid of the memory and kept on reading. Hours went by and you were about to read the last page when a shadow covered all the lights.

"A moment, David. I'm on the last page then you can close the café." You said not leaving the page.

"Hey, (Y/N)." A familiar voice echoed making you drop the book and gulp.

"Mick?!" You literally jumped up from the chair on him. "Wh-what at you doing here?" He hummed feeling your arms around him and the scent of your hair.

"I was missing my soulmate." He smirked not letting you go. "Cause she didn't visit me against the fact she promised me. And it was even a pinky promise! An unbreakable vow, we are talking about." He chuckled making you grin.

"Well, the tour hasn't ended, has it?"

∆

Taglist: @leatherandheels @littlemisscare-all @safari-karrot @crazyrockrlady @savageandnikkiapproved 🖤

[jobrookekarev]

All of My Secrets

Chapter: 1/1

Words: 3201

Summary: Jo tells Alex about her abortion and her past with Paul.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson and Jo Wilson/Paul Stadler (Past).

Characters: Jo Wilson and Alex Karev.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences.

Additional Tags: Talk of abortion, Reference to Domestic Violence, Pregnancy, Reeses the Dog, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Set in the Karev Chronicles. 

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: Bring tissues

……………………………………………………………………

Jo stared out the window as Alex drove over to the hospital. They estimated that she was around eight weeks now and Carina had her set up with her first appointment and ultrasound today. They were headed into work right now and the appointment was on their lunch break rather than on a day off so as not to arouse suspicion from everyone around them. Jo knew that Carina would ask her about her medical history and she knew she should tell Alex she had been pregnant before the appointment. 

This morning when Alex woke her up with a smile and said she was eight weeks. He was so excited and so was she, but then it hit her. She was eight weeks pregnant, a week more than she was when she was pregnant last time. 

For the first week after she found out she was pregnant the first time with Paul, Jo wanted to keep it. She thought she could keep it. A part of her thought that Paul would change and that he wouldn’t hit her anymore, but then he kicked her until he broke her ribs and threw her across the living room floor. After that, Jo realized that regardless of her pregnancy, he would always abuse her. Paul wouldn't change and she knew he would hurt their baby too. Having the abortion was her first act of rebellion against him, which led her to form a plan to leave him. 

Her pregnancy this time around was extremely different, Jo was safe and loved. Alex had been there from the beginning and he was so kind to her. He was helpful and caring in a special way and it was so good. He would carry her to the bed after she fell asleep on the couch. He always cleaned up after her when she accidentally vomited on the floor. He had taken over most of the household chores so she could rest. He made her mac and cheese every day because it was the only thing she could keep down. More importantly, Jo knew that Alex would never lay a hand on her or their child. She was so happy too, they were both so happy to have a child together, and sometimes they would just glance at each other and share an excited smile.

Yet, memories of her past pregnancy had come up like a sense of deja vu. When she threw away the pregnancy tests and had the urge to hide them. When the smell of cooked broccoli turned her stomach, or when she woke up in a panic because she left the dishes in the sink. It was only for a moment, but the lingering fear of Paul's abuse still haunted her. All morning she had thought about how to tell Alex about her pregnacy and abortion. She didn't fear telling him, she just kept the secret for so long she didn't know how to say it.

“Hey,” Alex's voice and his hand on her leg bouncing up and down, pulled her out of her head. She didn't realize they had stopped moving and were parked in the parking lot until he spoke. “Jo?” 

His look of worry deepened as she turned to look at him. Her chest quivered as she tried to take a deep breath in and Jo reached out her hand to him. Alex grasped her hand and held it close to his chest before he gave it a squeeze. Every woman's experience with abortion was different, for Jo it had to be a secret to keep herself safe. She buried it inside of her. She pushed it down for so long. She hadn’t told anybody about it, back then to keep herself safe. When she left, it felt like an unnecessary thing to bring up, but as she looked over at Alex now, she knew that she didn't have to keep it inside anymore. 

Yet, everything about Paul still hurts. There was an ache in her chest whenever memories of him came flooding back. Jo focused on Alex, who was good and safe, and tried to remember that she was okay. It took her a few deep breaths to finally calm down as she opened her eyes and looked over at him again. He was safe and she would be safe if she told him. He wouldn't lash out, he wouldn't hurt her, Alex was safe.

“I've been pregnant before and I had an abortion.” Jo finally managed to say as she looked over at him. She took another deep breath after the words left her lips and she continued. “That's why I knew that I was pregnant, despite the false negative. My symptoms, the way I felt, it’s exactly how it was the last time I was pregnant.”

Jo paused as she watched Alex take in the news. He rubbed his hand over his cheek and his eyes were wide as he looked away to the parking lot in front of them. Jo squeezed his hand and that seemed to bring him back. As he looked at her, she could tell that he was still in shock, but she could see he was slowly absorbing what she had said.

“Jo, are you saying that you,” Alex sighed, as he struggled to say what he wanted. “Are you saying that you, that you were pregnant and I didn't know? Was it after, was it when we were broken up after I hurt DeLuca?”

“No, no,” Jo said quickly, shaking her head. “It wasn't when I was with you.” 

“Okay,” Alex said, letting out a breath as he nodded and looked over at her squeezing her hand. “Does that mean it was with him?”

Alex looked over at her and she knew that the answer was in her eyes.

“It was before I left Paul. I found out I was pregnant and at the time I thought I could keep it, but then he threw me across the room and I knew I couldn't. I didn't know how to leave him then, but I knew I couldn't bring a child into that world. I knew that they couldn't fear Paul like I did. I was seven weeks along when I had an abortion.”

Jo didn't regret her abortion, the moment it was done she felt nothing but relief, relief that it was over, and that she didn't have to fear for anyone else's life. Although she still feared for her own. But it wasn't an easy thing to do, and the weight of it all, the fact that she had to do it in the first place because she was married to a monster. The fact that she couldn't tell anybody in fear that he would kill her because of it, kept her silent all these years. 

“That's part of the reason why I was so terrified to have kids, not because of you, never because of you Alex,” Jo said as she reached out and brushed his cheek with her hand.

“I always knew that you would be an amazing father and that you would love and support our kid no matter what. But the last time that I thought about bringing a child into this world, all I could think about was how much pain and sorrow they would go through because their father was a monster. I knew that they would never be free of him. Even if I left while I was pregnant. If Paul found out he would fight me for custody and he would probably win and if I raised the child with him they would see the way that he abused me and they would internalize that. Or worse, he would eventually start to hurt them as well, because, because they cried for too long, or because they threw a tantrum, or because they didn't get good grades, or for no reason at all. I thought that he would start hitting them because hitting me wasn't enough…”

Jo trailed off as her voice started to break because the heartache and pain that Paul brought to her life was still a wound that right now, felt fresh. She would normally blame her hormones, but everything about Paul and about her past was hard to talk about. Even now therapy had helped a little bit but the memories still held the pain of her abuse. 

“Oh Jo,” Alex said as he tilted his head and kissed the hand she had held against him and with the other hand he reached out and gently held her face as he rubbed his thumb along her cheek.

“I was just so terrified to bring a child into the world back then that I swore off having kids because there was too much pain and too much heartbreak. I knew that if I had a child and I died that they would end up in foster care like we did with no one to look out for them.”

“Jo, that's not going to happen to our kid ever,” Alex's voice was a whisper as he gently reassured her. “Our kid is going to have Meredith, and Link, and Amelia, and Maggie and hell, even Levi and Bailey and there's a whole hospital of people who would make sure that our child would be okay if anything ever happened to us.”

“I know,” Jo said with a smile because she knew his words were true. “Our child has a whole family of people that love and adore them already and they would step up and take care of them and I am so grateful for that, but that doesn't change how I feel and what I went through, but right now I have you and things are good. I love you and our baby and I’m so happy to be a mom.” 

Jo closed her eyes as she finished taking in a deep breath and letting it out. The tears that had collected in her eyes started to fall down her cheeks. 

“I just wanted you to know and now you know all of my secrets,” Jo said with a slight smile as she looked over at Alex, letting out a breath as she felt the weight of it lift off of her. “You know everything about me.”

Alex just nodded and Jo could tell that he didn't know what to say, but he squeezed her hand and that was enough. Just his mere presence had always been a comfort to her. Jo took a deep breath as she looked away from him. 

“The only other person I told about this was my birth mom. I don't know why I told her about it. I just, I wanted to connect with her, but I didn't ever view that pregnancy as a piece of Paul, the way she saw me as a piece of, of my birth father. She couldn't even stand to touch me. I, I reached out my hand to her and she, she pulled away.” 

Jo’s face contorted into a grimace. She squeezed her eyes shut as if it would stop the tears and tried to take a deep breath, but it came out in a shaky whimper. Alex knew all of this of course she had eventually open up to him about everything that she and her birth mom had spoken about with the exception of her abortion. 

Jo put a hand over her belly as if she was holding her baby. She couldn't wait until she was actually showing so she could feel something under her hand. “I will never do that to our baby, I love them so much already and I will never pull away from them, I don't think I could ever let them go.”

Alex reached out to her placing one arm around her shoulders as if he could try and hold her despite the console between them. “You can have them 24/7 if you want, you can hold them for as long as you need, okay.”

Jo looked over at him and nodded her head and pulled her hand back as she looked down at her belly. Jo didn't break out into sobs, but the tears kept falling. She just sat in the car with trembling breaths and tears, twirling her wedding rings around her finger over and over again. She was waiting to fall apart, but for what she didn't know.

“Hang on, I'm going to come around to you,” Alex said and she barely heard the door open and shut before he raced around the car and opened her door. 

He leaned over to hug her and it was a little awkward, but she put her head on his shoulder and let out a sigh. Alex's arms were safe, like a castle she could take refuge in and Jo fell apart. Her silent tears turned into wails as she cried against his shoulder. Her sobs echoed around the parking garage and the tears seemed never ending as she clung to Alex. 

Jo clung to him and he undid her seatbelt. They switched places so she could sit in his lap and Jo put a hand on her belly. As they sat in the parking garage Alex just rubbed up and down her back holding her. Eventually, Jo cried herself out and leaned her head against his shoulder. She was suddenly incredibly tired, something she was now realizing was just the effect of her pregnancy, and closed her eyes as she sighed. 

“Why don’t we go home?” Alex asked, running his hand up her back as attentive to her as ever. “We’ll call in sick, Carina will understand and Hayes can cover my service. I'll call your therapist, Carly and Michelle, and see if they have an opening today. Do you want to cancel your prenatal appointment as well or just lie when we come in later, and say that’s why we're there?”

“We can keep the appointment, but I just want to go home,” Jo said with a nod. 

She spent all her energy and now she knew there was no way she could physically or emotionally work today. All she wanted to do was crawl up on the couch with Reeses and rest her head in Alex's lap. 

Alex didn't move right away. He held her until she almost fell asleep and then he slipped out from behind her. Alex buckled her in, kissed her forehead, and Jo was out like a light. She woke up to the squeaky door of their loft opening as Alex carried her in. She tightened her grip around his neck as Alex walked over to the couch. 

He sat down and Reeses jumped up next to her. Jo pulled him into her lap and she thought she'd fall asleep again, but then she got a whiff of his puppy breath. Jo leaned forward and puked right there on the carpet before she even knew she was going to do it. 

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” Jo said, shaking her head as she tensed up. She expected him to yell and scream at her, to hit her, but he didn’t. Alex wasn't Paul, he was so much better. 

“Hey, none of that, it’s okay,” Alex said, as he rubbed her back and grabbed Reeses, holding him back, knowing that he would try and eat it. “It was an accident, I'm not mad, it's okay.”

Jo nodded as she took in his words and settled against the couch taking Reeses. Alex had been more understanding than she could ever have imagined, as she had thrown up unexpectedly a dozen times over the past few weeks since they found out she was pregnant. Jo closed her eyes as she leaned back against the couch and Alex rubbed her back. Every time she threw up Alex would rub her back before he cleaned up after her. It was nice, especially as it had gotten to the point that Jo was barely able to keep anything down. 

Alex came back when he was done, she lifted up her head so he could sit and she laid down with her head on his lap. Alex ran his fingers through her hair, brushing it out before he began to braid it into a French braid. Jo had never learned to braid hair. Growing up no one taught her or did it for her. At one foster home there was a doll with long blonde hair that she loved. She tried so hard to braid it just like her foster sister had done, but it just ended up in a tangled mess that she got punished for later so she gave up on it. It never really mattered until she got older and she needed to learn how to put her hair up for surgery, but even then she usually just threw it up in a bun. However, one time Alex offered to braid it for her. He had learned how to braid hair so he could do Amber's hair and now most days before surgery he braided her hair for her, even without her asking. It was one of those little acts of love that Jo loved so much.

“Thank you for cleaning up after me.”

“No problem, I’d rather you only puke once instead of a dozen times like you would if you tried to clean it up yourself. Besides I’m used to it from the Ped’s floor, Arizona and Addison used to punish me with diaper changes and vomit clean up,” Alex said with a shrug as if it was nothing.

“I still appreciate it, I appreciate everything you do for me Alex,” Jo said as she reached up to hold his cheek. “With you, I feel safe. I trust you. I know that you will never hurt me or our child. You will always do everything in your power to protect us and take care of us. From the moment we found out I was pregnant, I never worried about our baby or you, because you’re a good man, Alex and I could never ask for a better husband or a better father for my child.” 

Alex seemed overwhelmed with her words. She knew it was the most meaningful thing she could ever say to him, as it was everything he strived to be and every word was true. He smiled and kissed her hand before he leaned down and kissed her forehead. 

All three of them curled up on the couch and put a movie on. Jo looked up at Alex from her place on his lap, it was a weird angle and she mostly just got his chin, but she loved it. She closed her eyes and fell asleep in his lap again, knowing she was safe in his arms.

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Thin Ice Pt2 || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Peter’s slippery interaction on the ice leads to the beginning of a friendship.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s note: Sorry this part took so long I’ve been studying for my midterms! Also, this is one of the last times Y/N nerds out over snowboarding so I promise, I won’t have as many confusing references or anything like that! Also also, thank you to everyone who requested more parts and wanted to be added to the tag list! I’m super glad yall are enjoying this series! 

Warning: Swearing!! But ughhhh that’s it

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || to be continued 

You grabbed your skates from the counter and sat down on a wooden bench next to Cindy who was already done lacing up. The snow had stopped falling and left complete fluffy powder in its place and the air wasn’t as harsh or crisp as yesterday was. 

This was Cindy’s big moment to shine; she was never seen as an athlete but boy did she love to show off when it came to her ice skating skills. You, on the other hand, weren’t the best at ice skating which didn’t really make sense to your friends since it’s kinda like snowboarding in terms of balancing. Nonetheless, you weren’t going to be the only person sitting out while the rest of your classmates had fun so you did your best to participate gracefully. 

After getting your skates on (with much help from Cindy and Betty), you slowly got onto the ice and hung onto the wooden fencing. 

You were all out there for almost two hours and you wondered when Mr. Harrington would call it quits for today but he was nowhere to be seen which worried you. This was your first-time ice skating outside on an actual lake and you were terrified you would fall through but the girls convinced you that you were just being paranoid. 

“ Uhm, where is the trusted adult chaperone? I didn’t spend my savings trying just to slip through the ice and die,” You said in a jocking tone but the girls knew you were somewhat serious. 

“ I don’t blame you, you’re probably still traumatized after Peter practically ran you over yesterday,” Cindy replied as she skated backwards so she could face you and Betty. 

You held on to Betty’s hand tighter as some kids who couldn’t be older than eight whizzed by you. You felt your subconscious say to stick your leg out and trip them but you pushed those dark thoughts aside and tried to keep your cool.

 You kept looking at the ground just in case you saw any cracks in the ice but you still rolled your eyes at Cindy. 

“ For the last time, it was an accident. Besides, I think I look badass,” You pushed out your bottom lip and revealed the small gash from yesterday that was still healing,” I just hope Peter isn’t beating himself up about it.”

While the girls conversed with one another, Peter and Ned skated several feet away as Peter listened in on the conversation with his ‘spidey hearing’. He couldn’t help himself but when he started to feel guilty, he turned to Ned. 

“ Maybe I should go talk to her. I don’t want her to think I forgot about what happened cause I feel-”

“ Insanely guilty yes, you’ve said it almost a hundred times within the last hour,” Ned interrupted as he shook his head,” but of course she didn’t forget. She has a huge cut on her lip to remind her what happened.” 

Once again, Peter felt another wave of guilt before MJ skated beside him. He watched as your group skated further away and he felt his legs slow down. Say what you will about MJ, but she wasn’t the type to thrive off of people’s pain and suffering especially when her close friend was whining about a girl. 

“ Don’t let this get to your head Peter, but she couldn’t stop talking about you last night in the hotel room. It’s safe to say that she forgives you indefinitely,” MJ said plainly as if that wasn’t the best news Peter could’ve heard. 

Peter stopped in his tracks completely,” Are you serious? What did she say about me? Please please please tell me-”

“ Parker!” Cindy shouted as she bumped into him harshly which caused you and Betty to fall over towards Cindy.

You and Betty both fell onto your hands and knees as you thanked the universe that you didn’t smash your face in once again. 

You ignored the gasps from your friends as you tried to push yourself up with your hands. Your legs wobbled and you gave up, sinking to your knees to avoid further embarrassment.  As MJ and Cindy helped Betty up, Peter rushed over on his skates and slid over to you with his hands out. 

“ Y/N, I am the worst person in the world I’m sorry,” Peter apologized and you felt like you were having major deja vu. 

You reached up towards Peter as he lifted you back onto your feet but since he pulled you up so fast, you fell forward again, leaning up against his chest. Peter stabilized his feet and held onto your waist, making sure you didn’t take both of you down. 

You hung onto his shoulders as you pressed up against him more, your feet shifting nervously. While you could hide your blush against his chest, your friends could all see that the cold wasn’t the only thing making his face looked flushed. 

Peter’s mind was buzzing as you squeezed him tighter; oh my fucking god this is really happening right now. 

“ Y/N, um, you can open your eyes. You’re not going to fall,” Peter consoled you softly as you nodded, opening your eyes. 

You looked up at Peter and you pulled away when you realized how you were mere centimeters from his face. You let go of his shoulders and instinctively grabbed his hand instead so you didn’t fall over again. Peter looked down at you hands and gave you a reassuring squeeze. 

“ Thanks, Pete. I guess you redeemed yourself from yesterday,” You gushed as you looked down at your interlocked fingers. Even though you were both wearing gloves, you still felt weird holding his hand in front of everyone to see. 

You pulled away and awkwardly dropped your arms to the side as Mr. Harrington called out that it was time to explore the shops in the snow village. You gave one last look at Peter and smiled softly before shuffling over to the exit with Betty and Cindy. 

“ Ooooo Y/N and Peter sitting-”

You turned to Cindy and you weren’t sure if it was the soreness of your feet or how little sleep you got last night but your playful push turned into a hard one as you pushed Cindy into the snow with a soft thud. Cindy whined as you and Betty rushed to help her up to her feet. 

“ What were you saying?” Betty teased as Cindy let out a mocked laugh. 

“ Ha ha way to treat your friends.” 

After lunch, Mr. Harrington set all the students loose to look around the shops. Each had their own little gimmick like On the Edge Snowwear or Snowbunnies R Us.

You bent down to be eye level with one of the shelves that had a colorful array of snow goggles and studied the snow goggles as if it was the Mona Lisa. As you picked one up, you watched Brad come over to you from the corner of your eye but you kept your attention to the shelf. 

“ Really? Another pair of goggles? You have almost a dozen at home,” Brad said as he clicked his tongue and took the one you were holding out of your hand,” oh my god Y/N these cost more than the plane ticket!”

You grabbed the goggles back from him and shook your head,” They’re not just any goggles, they’re limited edition from the 2018 winter Olympics, see?” 

You pointed at the band on the side of the goggles and showed him the rings with the flag of South Korea beside it. 

Every student at Midtown had their own obsession; Flash was into expensive cars and was always at car shows during the weekends, Betty’s skin was always glowing because she’s completely obsessed with  Korean facemasks and feels the need to have collections of the same one, and Peter was strangely in love with Spiderman because he would always talk about how cool he was and asking everyone around him if they felt the same way. 

Your weird obsession was snowboarding and watching food ASMR videos but you decided to keep one of those things a secret. 

“ It was the year for snowboarding I mean come on, Shaun White won the most snowboarding medals at one Winter Olympics and Chloe Kim brought home the gold she’s our age!” 

You pulled out your phone and took a picture of the goggles before putting them back on the shelf. You could tell how disinterested Brad was but that didn’t stop you from taking a picture of the whole shelf altogether. 

When you stood back up, you looked across the shop and watched Peter and Ned laughing over one of the corny t-shirts on the rack. Peter felt your gaze on him but when he looked up at you, you moved your gaze to a random shelf. 

Brad looked at Peter and then back at you,” Is there something going on between you and Parker?” 

“ What makes you say that?” You asked as you walked over to the window where you watched MJ slam a pile of snow into Flash’s face. 

You knew exactly what he was asking but you had already put that embarrassment behind you and you didn’t want to relive it. 

“ You two were pretty cuddly on the ice this morning. Just be careful, I don’t want him to hurt you again.”

There was something a little harsh in Brad’s voice and you already knew something was up with him. Brad’s temper was always like rolling a pair of dice; some days nothing annoyed him while other days would set him over the edge. 

Whenever he used that voice, that meant you got the luxury of deciding how he would be handled in that place and time. 

“ Careful now, you sound a bit jealous,” You said, almost studying his face as he clenched his jaw,” what’s going on inside that head of yours Davis?” 

“ Why would I be jealous of him?” He asked bitterly as you put your hands up in defense,” I’m telling you to be careful or you’re going to end up in the medic station again.”

There was something definitely wrong but you were already so tired from this morning and decided not to fight this battle. 

“ Hey look, I’m just playing around. Is something wrong?” 

Brad ignored you, turned around, and pushed through the doors as he left you standing there in the middle of the store. You didn’t bother chasing after him because you knew how he was when he was annoyed. Besides, you were on this trip to have fun, not babysit. 

 You looked around the store and when you made eye contact with Peter again, you decided to put your embarrassment aside and walk over to him. 

“ I couldn’t help but notice your burning gaze from across the room,” You teased as Peter laughed,” tell me, do you come here often?” 

He was glad that there was nothing awkward between the two of you, especially considering what had happened this morning with how close the two of you were. He set down the snowglobe he picked up and stuffed his hands in his pocket, trying to get the image out of his head before his whole face turned red. 

“ Oh sure. I love spending my free time at a store called Tis the Ski-son boutique.”

He followed you as you both walked out of the store side by side, leaving with no other purchases. Peter wrapped his scarf around him tighter, even though he was slightly embarrassed for being cold (which of course didn’t make any sense) while you breathed in the cool air. 

You watched your feet as you listened to the snow crunch from underneath you, almost getting lost in an icy trance. 

Time always felt slower when it snowed outside and yet, this trip was going by so fast. You only had a few more days left before the trip would be over and you knew you would miss it already. 

You watched Peter who looked so uncomfortable out in the cold and tried to find a store to settle in for a bit. 

“ Edgewater Cafe has really good hot chocolate if you want to check it out?” You offered as Peter nodded his head, almost too eagerly. 

You and Peter had quickly shuffled over to the cafe and once you got inside, you could feel Peter melt beside you, feeling at peace in the warm coco shop. When you ordered for the both of you, Peter insisted that he paid and even slapped your hand away while you tried to give the cashier your card. 

He claimed it was his treat but you both knew it was a way to apologize for both yesterday and today’s events. 

Peter found a quiet area in the corner and sat on one side of the couch as you took the other. You both brought the cup to your lips at the same time but you watched him as he took a small sip with his eyes closed. 

“ So, what do you think?” You asked as you took a sip, savoring the rich chocolate. 

Peter nodded and took another sip before putting resting the cup back onto his thigh,” Okay, it’s not bad but I wouldn’t say it’s the best.” 

“ Oh come on! Where else can you get hot chocolate this gourmet?” 

“ If by gourmet you mean a cocoa mix with boiling water then yeah, I guess it is gourmet.”

You shook your head at him as you took another sip, not caring what he thought. You watched Peter as he rubbed his finger up and down against the cup as if he was deep in thought.

Out of nowhere, Peter’s heart started to race and he was glad that you couldn’t tell the difference. It finally hit him that you two were hanging out alone, which rarely ever happened unless you two were doing a school project or shared the same subway home. 

You felt this too and decided to break the tension,” This isn’t weird, right? Like us hanging out? Alone?” 

Yes. 

“ No, why would it be weird?” Peter asked as his voice cracked slightly. 

You shrugged and took another sip before putting the cup down on the table. This was definitely weird but for some reason, you didn’t mind. You had a pretty good radar on people and Peter never seemed like a creep so you felt at ease. 

“ I don’t know to be honest. We’re classmates but I never really knew if we were friends or not,” You admitted as you watched Peter’s smile fall,” I mean, do you want to be friends with me?”

You shook your head and laughed, your mind processing what you had just offered,” I know that sounds childish like we’re in kindergarten or something but yeah, I guess what I’m saying is that I think we should be friends. Does that sound childish?” 

Peter didn’t know what to think. He felt like he had just gotten friend-zoned but on the other hand, being friends was a step up from what you two originally were. 

Of course, Peter wanted to just spill everything about his not so small crush on you but relationships take time. If he had to wait and be friends with you, he would gladly take that. 

“ It does sound childish..but yeah. I want to be friends with you,” Peter said as you both shared a sweet smile,” does this mean we have to make friendship bracelets or something?”

“ I’m two steps ahead of you Pete,” You picked up your cup which was almost empty by now and lifted it up towards Peter,” how about a toast...to new friendships.” 

Peter lifted his cup and pressed it against yours as his heart slammed against his ribcage,” To new friendships.” 

@yeahimcrying @greatpizzascissorstaco @mysticalbanshee @weyheyavengers @infinityflamesworld @peterparkoure @fandom-fangirl22​ @holland-in-disguise

[eveenstar]

𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔 [𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒌𝒊 𝑳𝒂𝒖𝒇𝒆𝒚𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏]

||➸𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭||

Tags/Warnings: Possible amnesia, insomnia and a brief panick attack mentions.

Summary: You wake up back in your bed, with no idea how you got there in the first place. With a foggy mind, you notice that strange things are happening around your house.

Note: Honestly, I've been so excited to write this series. It's going a bit slow in the beginning but I promise from chapter 3 things will began to get serious! Can you guess what is happening in (Y/N)'s home?

Loki knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, his eyes focused on yours and you felt everything stop around you two.

"Marry me, (Y/N), " Loki said softly, grabbing your hand on his. "You'll never have to be alone,"

You smiled, you smiled as if you didn't remember this never happened. Tears covered your vision but it really wasn't tears, you weren't crying, but everything slowly began to get blurry. You felt yourself fall, as if your own soul left your body and fell into abism. Loki's voice echoed in your mind.

"I love you and that's all I really know."

You woke up in a harsh gasp, hands sweaty. You were met again with a cold house, now dark due to how late in the night it should be. Not even threads of light escaped through the blinds, nor you could recognize where anything in your bedroom should be.

Turning on the bedside lamp, you pushed yourself from the king-size bed and grabbed your forest green robe and dressed it, glad that at least it's somewhat warm.

Wasn't it blue?

The bedside alarm clock read exactly 3:30 AM, and you felt a sudden deja vu. Lately, you've been awaking up at this exact hour of the night, for no other reason than strange dreams.

You decided that a nice cup of milk would suit this situation, as you recalled that your mother used to say that "milk helps the sleep" and even though you doubted that affirmation of hers, anything now would feel better if it meant to help you close your eyes and drift off to another world. Your feet felt cold against the floor tiles, and again you forgot to wear socks (even though you were sure you wore them the day before, for one reason you know couldn't think why).

As you poured the milk down on your plain white mug, it finally accured to you. Yesterday's call with Natasha and the drive trip to the Avengers Tower. You ran a hand through your hair and frowned slightly, everything afterwards felt like a distant memory. Foggy and confusing. How did you end up in your house, in your bed? How did you forget? Probably from the lack of sleep you've been getting lately.

Maybe you should call Natasha.

Ignoring how late it was, you pulled out your phone and noticed it was dead. Sighing to yourself, you put it to charge while you left to explore your house and re-make the steps you probably took when you got home the day before.

Your clothes were all messed up in a chair, your shoes looked like somebody threw them across the room and didn't bother to get them, otherwise everything else looked in place. You paced back and forth, getting a bit impacient at your lack of remembering such things.

The flowers.

The Narcissus flowers.

Where are them?

You grabbed the empty flower vase, which used to be filled every week with beautiful flowers picked from your personal garden. The house withhold a tense atmosphere, heavy as the rain that falls from the dark clouds. The pale-coloured brightness that the kitchen's lamp provided a ball of light around you, like a little angel was protecting you against the darkness and you hoped it not to go away.

Your body was frozen in place, you didn't even realize you weren't breathing until a hrash exhale left your lungs and the flower vase fell from your shaking hands, into the mosaic floor.

You ran to your bedroom as if a big, bad monster was chasing you and quickly closed the door. You blocked it with a chair and turned on your phone, which was fortunately (and the luckiest you've been in a good while, most likely) charged enough to call someone.

"(Y/N)? It's 4 am, are you okay?"

"Something is wrong, Natasha, I, I can't remember anything."

"What do you mean?"

"Can you please come by my house?" You heard her grab something, "Please..." you whispered.

..."And that's when I called Natasha." You finished explaining and took a drink out of the cup of water Steve gave you.

"How long has this been happening?" He asked, a worried look on his blue eyes. Natasha, who was sitting next to him, carried the same look.

"Few days, weeks I suppose." You looked in between both of them, and guilt took over you. "I'm sorry, it's silly."

"Hey, don't say that. It's completely normal." Nat caressed your arm sweetly. It felt good to see her again, even though it was only yesterday when you two met. She looked exactly the same as three years ago, but she had a different aura around her. Sadder, darker. Steve had it too.

"Hey, (Y/N), it may not be the best time but...There's a therapy group I know, and maybe it would be good if you take a look at it." Steve suggested, his arms crossed and a deep look upon you.

You gazed to the ground again, "I'll think about it."

"I just think something's weird here, " Natasha said, "You never ordered Narcissus flowers to your home."

If this was another situation, you'd laugh at it. But Natasha was serious, and you knew it. The Narcissus flowers don't grow in your garden, and you followed a specific order of plants to buy every week, and they weren't in the list. They never were. Not after Loki's death.

"I probably ordered them by mistake." Play it off. Act cool. It's nothing, it has to be just a simple mistake. You got confused and ordered them instead.

"If you feel safer, we can get somebody to protect your house. Just for good measure." Steve took the mugs and cups to the sink, and didn't miss the chance to give another helpful advice like the good friend he is. You pondered on it for a while, and you could enjoy the company.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." Natasha, who was staring at you again, opened her mouth to say anything but you got ahead of her first, "Well, thanks for coming but I need to get a couple of hours of sleep. Sorry for bothering you guys."

"You would never."

You walked them to the front door, and Natasha pulled you in a surprise hug. You didn't even know how to react. It's been so long since you've had human touch.

She pulled back, and you swore you saw a tear in the corner of her eyes. Those tears that come at the most unfortunate moments, where you can't most definitely break down. Natasha hid them well, not from you, because you too know that trick. Never break down, never show weakness to anyone or anything. The woman gave you a calm (but you knew the pain behind it) smile.

"Call us if you need anything else, okay?"

You nodded and replied with a vague smile back.

The hours passed, passed and passed. The clouds in the sky were as heavy as your soul felt, and soon they began to cry out. The rain slammed against your windows and warned about an upcoming thunderstorm was on its way. Spring felt more as a Winter 2.0 and in the blink of an eye, it was eight o'clock.

According to one of Natasha's texts, a security guard would arrive at ten AM. Until then, you prepared a nice breakfast for you (and for the guard, you wanted to be as kind as possible). Thanks to Steve, who brought enough food to last for at least a few days, you didn't have to worry about starving now.

You, relaxed for once in a lifetime, made your way to the couch to hopefully watch some pre-recorded tvshows. You were too lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice how in all framed pictures of yourself, your face was blurred out.

[1-lightofjustice]

Choice and Fate

Preview :   

("I made it in time to be with you at your final moment and share your destiny. I am satisfied with that.") -July, 1999

("It may come to be that you'll share my destiny and have to die with me." "Then so be it.") -December, 2013

Two Kings, two knights, and their shared destiny.

Pairing : Fushimi and Munakata, Habari and Zenjou. No romance but a very deep bond

Tags : Metafiction, Angst with Happy Ending, Zenjou Gouki P.O.V

Notes : I was re-watching Side Blue Seven Stories, and boy do I fangirling hard when Zenjou talked about "shared destiny" (It's the same word, unmei!). Especially since Munakata and Fushimi's secret plan is my favorite thing on K : ROK. Then when I read about previous Blue clan's tale, it occurred to me that Habari/Zenjou/Shiotsu really has some similar dynamic with Munakata/Fushimi/Awashima. Responsible and doting beautiful King, serious and disciplined Lieutenant and second in command, and the wild card "can't wear their uniform properly" private force of the King. Their situation is also somewhat familiar, but of course in Munakata/Fushimi/Awashima's case, they ended with happy ending *pats Zenjou and Shiotsu*

Link of this fic on ao3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/31751149

Throughout the surprisingly long life of a Zenjou Gouki, he has encountered many crazy situations. Hell, he managed to see the Kagutsu Crater incident right in front of him and stayed alive. But what happened last night can be included in one crazy thing that happened in front of his eyes after a long time.

It started with him following his current superior (not King, Munakata Reisi is never his King) to a small plain room. It was furnished exceedingly modestly, having only a desk and a bed. Zenjou thought that this boring place must be the perfect place to discuss something like a secret plan. Munakata seemed to notice his thought, informed him with a light tone.

"This is my private room. Not many people know about this room, so it will be convenient for our secret meeting.[1]"

"So you really have a place to rest. I've heard rumors about you are some kind of creature who doesn't need sleep." surprised Zenjou. Zenjou has heard many rumors regarding what a bizarre creature the current Blue King. From he has an infinite set of glasses to he lives inside network and doesn't need rest, because no single person ever see him in any condition except straight and sturdy. Although, he also never saw Habari slept either.

He wondered if that was Blue Kings' stubborn trait, to never let people see their crumbled form even on the brink of their death. Yes, he already knew the state of Munakata's Damocles Sword, but the current Blue King's eyes never waver in fear of his own fate.

Just like Habari on that damned day...

A disapproving tongue click voiced his thought, also turned his attention toward its source. Entered a lanky boy with a scowly face that maybe can rival Shiotsu. Of course, he knew immediately the identity of the boy. Fushimi Saruhiko, the number 3 of current Scepter 4. The wild card of the King, Munakata's favorite [2], who has given authority to act freely as his liking [3], much to the discipline Lieutenant Awashima's frustration.

("Zenjou, don't just face the enemy head out! I ordered you to wait, didn't I?!"

"So what? Habari said it's okay, didn't he? You're too stuck up, Shiotsu..."

"Sigh... Habari, you're too sweet with Zenjou.."

"It's fine, isn't it? This guy does a better job when he runs freely.") [4]

"As weird as he looks like, Captain is a human too. Obviously, he does things like resting and sleeping like the rest of us. He just works all the time like a moron and spouting nonsense like King doesn't get tired or something like that." Fushimi's sarcastic quip brought him back to the present. Zenjou has to tell Shiotsu that as delinquent as his past self, this boy is way way worse than him.

At least he never called Habari a moron.

Captain didn't look offended at the insult, though. He greeted the boy with his usual amused tone.

"Ah, Fushimi-kun, you finally came. Have you finished your work?"

The boy shrugged and sat on the only chair in the room, facing Munakata who was seated on his bed. Zenjou himself was content to stand leaning on the wall, away from any of them as possible.

"Tsk, after the alliance agreed on Silver King's plan, I have so many things that have to be prepared. You are the one who asked me to come to your room after today's work is over without getting noticed by other people. Do you realize how wrong it sounds?"

Munakata only smiled at Fushimi's insolent words.  

"I'm sorry, but there's something important that I have to discuss with you in secret. It's related to Silver King's plan that we've heard this noon. After listening to that, I am planning to make a backup plan in case his plan is failed."

Backup plan...quite a natural move for the current Scepter 4's Captain. For a Blue King, he had a quite pessimistic mindset. Once again, Zenjou ascertained that Munakata is not the same as his bright and optimistic Habari.

But, a doubtful thought entered his mind. Was Habari indeed always optimistic?  Suddenly he recalled his conversation with Habari about birds dropping, and Zenjou mulled, maybe Habari knew about his upcoming tragic fate earlier than he thought. [5]    

Fushimi looked at Munakata with a curious gaze, devoid of worry or mistrust upon Captain's words.

"You think his plan will be failed?"

"I can't say that his plan will surely fail, but for a King who runs in shadow all this time, it's weird for Green King to make such an open attack. I have a feeling that Green King has something on his sleeve and it potentially can mess up Silver King's plan."

"Why didn't you say something at the alliance meeting earlier?" asked Fushimi, fully aware that the usual Munakata Reisi should not hesitate to say anything on his mind at the earlier alliance meeting. Munakata pushed his glasses in a somewhat weirdly embarrassed gesture.

"Because I'm still not sure what is Green King's hidden trick so so that my suspicions can seem like paranoia for no reason. I also don't want to discourage other Kings before the battle. Anna-kun is still a child and Isana-shi seems to...have quite a weak mental strength. Besides, the fewer people who know about my backup plan, the better."

Fushimi scanned around the room, seemed to have just realized the absence of Lieutenant Awashima and other Scepter 4 members.

"Lieutenant and the rest of Scepter 4 members are not included in your plan?"

"Yes, I just need you, Fushimi-kun, and you, Zenjou-san. I don't plan to include other clans either but I can't control their action. Is there any more question?"

Looks like finally the curious youth ran out of his questions. Zenjou himself refused to say anything unless he was asked directly.

"Alright then, will the two of you hear what I have to say?"

Zenjou felt a sudden deja vu. Three of them, a king and two wild cards, this situation mirrored their meeting before Kusuhara's avenge mission.[6]

"Fine, let's hear about your plan."

"If our defense on Mihashira tower is defeated and the Slate gets stolen by Green clan, I need you to enter Green clan, Fushimi-kun."

Zenjou froze upon hearing the sentence. He threw his full attention toward Munakata, to see what kind of face he made after uttered such a crazy task. But Munakata didn't seem going to take his words. The current Blue King switched his gaze at the boy Fushimi, who had an unnaturally speechless look on his young face.

"Infiltrate Green Clan, get as close as possible to their secret quarters and the Slate, then give us chance to attack them."

Fushimi's shocked face lasted for a few minutes. Then he finally found his voice to spoke up.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to be Green King's clansman. That means betray Scepter 4. Betray  you ."

Munakata maintained his unshakable serenity.

"Yes, we will have a fake quarrel in front of everyone and you are supposed to leave me in anger."

The youth gradually lost his shocked face. In exchange, his mouth morphed into a twisted grin, and he let out a quite long crazed laugh. Captain just stared at him in silence with no intention to stop his subordinate's bizarre action. In the end, the boy regained his composure and threw Munakata a bitter smile.

"I see, it's such a fitting job for a traitor like me."

Munakata lowered his gaze, but his voice remained steady.

"Indeed you are the only one who can do this task, not only because you have switched clan before, but also I have complete faith in your ability to fulfill this mission."

"Faith, huh..."

Hearing his favorite subordinate's mocking tone, the Scepter 4 captain stood up and walked to the table near the boy. He gently put his hand on the table and spoke softly.

"But I understand that it's not an easy task to accept so you have all night to consider this. In the morning, please give-"

"I'll do it."

"Fushimi-kun?" Munakata's composure shook a little, jolted at Fushimi's resolute words. The person in question stared his Captain head-on with a determined expression.

"I accept this mission. Truly annoying, but I understand the importance of the backup plan, and your plan seems logical enough."

"Fushimi-kun, I advise you to think about this matter carefully. This is a mission with no guarantee that you would return alive. You can refuse it."

"Tsk, don't you say that you have faith in my ability?"

"I have absolute confidence that you can perform this task successfully. But after Green clan is aware of your espionage, you will be trapped in the middle of enemy's territory alone, especially since this mission is kept as a secret from everyone except me, you and Zenjou-san."

Fushimi took his eyes off Munakata and looked at Zenjou, as if just noticing the veteran's presence in the room. He looked at the scarred man slightly annoyed, probably because he didn't like other people to see his last (maybe) mental breakdown.

I don't want to see it either, kid. I don't even know why I am here.

"I understand to keep it from Lieutenant and others to make my betrayal will look real, but why does Zenjou-san is included in this plan?" protested Fushimi, not caring a little bit about Zenjou's demonic popularity. Then again, that kid once (maybe) deliberately passed him and taunted him with his own Captain's condition [7].

Truly no wonder that he's Munakata's favorite.

"After you give a chance to attack, I plan to confront Green clan and Zenjou-san, I need you to be my only companion."

If before Zenjou froze, now he felt like he was being doused by cold water. No one in the room didn't understand the hidden meaning of the Blue King's sentence. Munakata walked toward Zenjou and stared at him sternly, signified how serious the situation that Zenjou was getting into.

"I do not plan to include other Scepter 4 members since Awashima-kun and the rest should handle clan's matters in my absence. Zenjou-san, I will rely on your ability to give me the best possible protection while facing Green clan."

So he refused to say outright about the elephant in the room, huh. How hilarious. Voicing his thought, the youth snorted sarcastically.

"Pft, best possible protection, isn't he your executioner? Or what do you call him? Your Sword of Damocles, part of your destiny."

Wow, ain't that familiar words. So the boy overheard his conversation with the current Blue King on Kusuhara's avenge mission. Munakata didn't mind his subordinate's provocative words at all and firmly addressed the elder man.

"Zenjou-san, are you willing to accompany me and obliterate any threat that can harm humanity?"

Zenjou-san was well aware that the said humanity's threats meant by Munakata are not only about Green Clan and their grand plan. Munakata planned to push his Weismann's level past its limit to face Green clan, and when his Damocles Sword is at the risk of getting down, his life will be the obstacle that must be removed to prevent massive destruction.

(”Zenjou, you will always do the right thing. You will cut what needs to be cut.”)

"I will cut anything that needs to be cut."

"That's good then" nodded Munakata, who seemed satisfied at the confirmation of his own execution.

Silence engulfed the small room. Neither of them intended to open break the ice, probably busy with thoughts of each great burden on their shoulders. After a few minutes, the boy spoke up with an amused yet depressed tone.

"Lieutenant will not be happy about this."

"I bet she won't," chuckled Munakata softly.

"If somehow we can survive in the end, she will choke us with massive ankos."

The boy suppressed his giggle. He was aware of his impending fate, the high possibility of his death with his King...

And he laughed.

On  that day , didn't he also laughed at the possibility of his death alongside Habari? Wait, no, he laughed about how angry Shiotsu to be left alone and has to handle all the mess after their death. And in the end, Shiotsu still had to take care of all Scepter 4 matters because Zenjou after he cut his own king is truly dead in everything but breaths.

Glad that Shiotsu isn't obsessed with anko. Not that he dislikes anko, though.

Captain's chuckle disappeared, seemed that he didn't enjoy Fushimi's newest humor.

"Fushimi-kun, are you sure-"

Fushimi stood up to silence Munakata's mouth, fixed his eyes to his Captain steadily.

"Shut up, I said that I will do it, didn't I. Just like you said, I am the only one who can do it. Instead of nagging me, you should think about yourself."

Fushimi turned around, refusing to face his Captain. The boy muttered petulantly.

"....I am not the one who will walk toward a practically suicide plan."

Munakata sat back on his bed, staring at the room ceiling.

"Your mission has a very high risk, it can be considered a suicide plan, though. It may come to be that you'll share my destiny and have to die with me."

"Then so be it."

Seeing the despairing scene unfolding before his eyes, Zenjou looked away, hard. He didn't like it. The scene he saw right now, is too similar like on that day.

("I made it in time to be with you at your final moment, and share your destiny. I am satisfied with that.")

"Well, there's nothing left to discuss, right? Then I'll go, there are so many things that need to be prepared for tomorrow's plan, also for this new backup plan."The boy hurriedly walked toward the door, still refuse to turn back and saw his Captain.

"Fushimi-kun?"

"Yes?"

The current Blue King took his eyes off the ceiling, focused his attention at his subordinate's back.

"If there's a time when you can choose your fate, please choose the best option for your safety."

The boy was silent for a few moments. Then, still with his back to his Captain, he grabbed the doorknob

"I'll keep that in mind."

The door was opened, and Fushimi was ready to walk out of that room. But, he turned back facing Munakata and stated with a soft yet clear voice.

"When the time comes, I have a feeling that my body will do what I think it's right to do, reason doesn't matter. Just like that night when I stepped to your side. So, I can't promise you anything that I myself can't understand."

"I see... Then, whatever your choice later, do not hesitate."

("Do not hesitate, Zenjou.")

"Yeah, I will not regret it."

I don't understand. Why did I must kill you that time, Habari?

The former right-hand of late Blue King silently watched as the youth's figure completely disappeared from the room. The current Blue King rose from his bed and also walked to the door.

"The meeting is over. Looks like we have so many things to be prepared, aren't we, Zenjou-san? Or do you have any questions?"

Questions? He has so many of them. He felt like he didn't understand anything at all. Blue Kings. Munakata.

Habari.

But there's one thing he had to make sure of.

"You will not let the boy share your fate, aren't you?"

Munakata just smiled softly and walked out of the room, as if his smile is enough for an answer. But the right-hand man of the late Blue King understood the meaning of that damned familiar smile.

The answer is as clear as the blue sky.

King, Zenjou thought, is truly the cruelest being.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

As Munakata predicted, Mihashira's plan was failed and Green clan succeed in stealing the Slate. As per Munakata's plan, he had a nasty verbal fight with Fushimi and the boy left in anger (he wondered how much it was acting and how much it was their scream to each other for the last time). Then, just like Munakata's prediction, the boy managed to be Jungle J-ranker, the current Blue King was fired from his job, and the rest of Scepter 4 were not allowed to leave home base.

The final stage had been prepared.

"I wish I knew what they were thinking, both Captain and Fushimi-san!"

A young energetic blue clansman's voice of frustration echoed in his ears, while he accompanied the Captain walked toward Green clan's base. Funnily, he wondered the same. He glanced at the current Blue King, hoped to catch a glimpse of emotion regarding his impending death. But the current Blue King walked straight as usual, there is no hesitation in his steps and his regal posture.

Habari, when you stood straight facing my sword, surrounded by destruction, what were you thinking?

Did he think about his duty as King to preserve society?

Did he think about his fate to die for everyone's sake?

Did he think about the benefit of his disappearance?

Is it... Is it so wrong for Zenjou to think the opposite?

To think that the world can crash and burn as long as he can be on his King's side?

("The country would be destroyed."

"I see... None of my concern. I fight with you, I die with you. That's all I need to do. Let Shiotsu take care of the rest.")

Losing on his thought, and let his body automatically slashed anything that came across their path, he halted when Munakata suddenly stopped in the middle of the road.

"Now we wait."

Wait, for what?  

Zenjou got his answer quickly after. The road in front of him trembled and shifted. Green clan members around them yelled in panic, confused why and how the gate of their secret base was opened.

But the former right-hand of late Blue King understood. The boy did it. He chose to stay on his King's side and fight for his sake, disregarding his own life.

This means that for the boy, opened the gate for his King is the right thing to do.

Again, he hurriedly took a glance at the King beside him. The Blue King smiled softly, relief in his eyes tingled with immeasurable fondness.

"Fushimi-kun. You have done it."[8]

("That's right, Zenjou. That's fine.")

As if his mind wasn't already filled with painful nostalgia, a familiar person appeared from the gate. Ootori Seigo, the Gray King, another person who lost his everything because of Kagutsu Crater.

"Good grief, the gate really did open. Nagare's foresight is quite accurate."

Of course, the Gray King acknowledged Zenjou as Habari Jin's right-hand man. It's been 14 years ago, but no one will ever forget everything that happened in the middle of Kagutsu Crater. Not that he had any business with Ootori Seigo, now.

He was Munakata's problem.

As the Gray King summoned Damocles Sword, Munakata also summoned his. The broken Blue Damocles Sword clashed with the solid Gray Sword.

The Blue King unleashed his sanctum, pushing his Weissman level.

Green clan had been aware of the boy's infiltration.

The countdown of their death has begun.

So far, everything has gone according to Munakata's plan. But then many unexpected things happened. The first was the arrival of the red and white clansmen who entered the entrance that had been opened by Fushimi. Indeed, the Blue King had said that he cannot control the movements of other clans, but what happened after that certainly completely deviated from Captain's prediction.

Scepter 4 members, who were supposed to be confined in their home base, disregarded the orders from above and came to assist their King. For a supposed genius, Munakata is truly stupid to think that he stopped being their leader after he was fired. As if any clansman will accept that a single piece of paper dictates them to abandon their King.

("Tokyo Legal Affairs Bureau, Civil Registry Department, Annex 4 is just a facade. Our true identity is the proud Scepter 4 clansmen of Blue King, Munakata Reisi").

Supported by his clansmen's sanctuary, the Blue King rose from adversity and managed to turn the tide. In the end, he succeeded to land a fatal blow on Ootori Seigo and made his Damocles Sword disappeared. Every blue clansman rejoiced for it before suddenly Munakata's whole body crackled with uncontrolled Blue power.

Scepter 4 Lieutenant suddenly rushed to his side and prevented other people to come closer to her King.

"Everyone, stand back. You too, Zenjou-san."

Not too long ago, he challenged Lieutenant Awashima to kill her King. He didn't really think that it had to be her job to slay her King and stop her King's Damocles Sword. Maybe he was testing her. Maybe he was just annoyed because she nagged him about his role in killing King in the past (not that she was worse than Munakata about that). Maybe he was a little resentful because people like her remembered him best as the person who was credited with stopping Habari's Damocles Down by killing his own King.

No matter what reason, it was clear that Awashima took his words seriously. She immediately went to Munakata's side and kept everyone away from him.

"I am his lieutenant. If necessary, I will..." declared Awashima firmly, But her hands were shaking, indicating the heavy feeling raging in her heart.

("Zenjou, as always, you never do wrong things. You will cut what needs to be cut.")

The current Blue King just kept calm with his crackling body. Maybe he already gave up on controlling everything that happened around him and allowed himself to go with the inevitable flow of fate. What did he say before? 'There are times when you want to throw out reason and let fate take its course'.

"Awashima-kun, when the time comes, do not hesitate."

("Do not hesitate, Zenjou.")

Too focused on what was happening, no one noticed the gray king's departure from his previous place. Zenjou just noticed it for a while, and let him be. With the old man's battered body, Ootori couldn't do anything except mustered his last strength and limped toward his purpose of life.

"At least, he can die where he wants."

Which is certainly couldn't be said for Zenjou. All he can do is to live and observe the next tale of Blue. Blue that did not belong to him.

Wild power in Munakata' body was intensified. Crack in the huge blue sword grew exponentially. Lieutenant Awashima strengthened her grip on her sword, gritted her teeth.

Will history repeated itself?

Will the right hand of the King, the most devoted clansman of Blue, killed her own King?

Suddenly, crackles that enveloped the Blue King stopped. The broken Sword of Damocles disintegrated into blue sparkles, diluted in the clear blue sky. Lieutenant Awashima drastically relieved her tense posture, utterly grateful painted her pretty face.

Munakata himself didn't show any sharp change of expression. With the same serene and peaceful smile, the former Blue King whispered softly.

"It seems my life has been spared."

"Captain!"

Munakata turned his back facing his Lieutenant. He noticed the strong woman's refreshed face, as if she was just relieved from a huge burden and all is well. That's exactly what happened, indeed.  

"I must admit that I was a bit curious to see if Awashima-kun would be able to slay me. However, I appreciate your efforts. Thank you."

Asshole. Even just after be free from the brink of certain death, the young captain is as cynical as ever. The Lieutenant's emotion didn't change much, but if someone looked closely, a spark of anger flashed her eyes.

"With all due respect, Captain. Your gratitude alone will not be enough."

"Huh?"

"Excuse me!"

A loud, well-deserved punch, streaked Munakata's baffled face. Zenjou snorted, silently cheered.

Serves him right.

He was truly satisfied to accompany Munakata today.

A huge earthquake shook underneath them. The Scepter 4 Captain in everything but an official title (not for long) quickly ordered his clansmen to evacuate. He himself stayed in the place he stood, stared forlornly at the remnant of Green Clan base below him. Come to think about it, Munakata had been staring at the Jungle entrance ever since he defeated Gray King.

As if he dropped something precious in there.

Do you regret hoping that he doesn't share the same fate as you, now that you survived?

Suddenly, a green light appeared behind him, carrying the bruised but clearly alive Blue's youngest clansman. The newly former King turned around, and finally met his private soldier's eyes for a long time since their hurtful (fake) quarrel. There are so many things that happened to them, so many things that should be discussed, but the youth casually spoke up, as if they're in a normal day of normal daily Scepter 4 life.

"Mission accomplished, sir.."

"Well done."

Seeing the serene scene in front of him, Zenjou suppressed the bitter envy in his heart.

If only he and Habari's situation ended up like them...

Kagutsu bastard... if he wanted to destroy everything so much, he should destroy the damned Slate when he was at it.

0000000000000000000000000

"So, have you found your answer on the last incident?" asked a man with a scary face beside Zenjou. His name is Shiotsu, the former Lieutenant of Habari's Scepter 4 and Zenjou's closest comrade after Habari. They were on a drink together in the same oden store as the last time [7].

"What answer? I was simply watching the current Blue King." replied Zenjou while sipping his drink. Shiotsu scowled.

"You certainly watched him because of  that time . You said that you want to understand Habari after all.[9]"

Smoothing his frown, Shiotsu raised his glass and pondered.

"To be honest, I am curious too. How did he feel when he stood between his own life and massive destruction? How did he feel when he asked you to kill him?"

"Habari didn't ask me to kill him. I chose to do it."

The bespectacled man suddenly stated, put his glass down slowly.

"That's my answer I guess."

"What?" perplexed Shiotsu. Zenjou Gouki is the absolute loyal dog of Habari Jin. For him to admit that he chose to kill his King... the former Acting Captain of Scepter 4 couldn't believe his ears.

"On the recent incident with Munakata, The Blue-I mean former Blue King didn't ask Awashima to kill him. Still, she rushed to his side, just like I did in the past. She's prepared to do what needs to be done, for Scepter 4 and society's sake. On the other hand, that boy Fushimi chose to risk his life for Munakata, opened the gate that became the entrance for Silver King and his alliance to enter Jungle, and indirectly caused Munakata's Damocles to disappear. Both of them didn't move because of command. They just did what they think is the right thing to do, without hesitation."

Zenjou took a dejected breath, and continued calmly.

"At that time,  maybe it happened to me as well. All Habari did was to let me do my choice and accepted his fate."

Shiotsu was silent, stared at Zenjou's contemplative look. The former guard dog of Blue King's face was melancholic just like how he always is while thinking about their King, but he could feel that finally, his closest comrade found peace in himself.

"I see... Then, did you regret your choice?"

Zenjou smiled wistfully.

"Part of me still wants to die alongside him on that day, but I will try not to regret what's already happened."

Shiotsu still remembered the days after the Kagutsu incident. Zenjou's blank hopeless look, as if his soul went with his king to the afterlife. Zenjou who left Scepter 4 right after Habari's death, and withdrew from everyone. Zenjou who refused to come out, and chose to grieve in silence.

Looking that his friend's sorrowful yet serene smile, Shiotsu felt very grateful that his friend was still alive and sat in his side.

"Good for you, Zenjou."

Looking at his comrade's unusual fond smile, Zenjou chuckled.

"So you can make a smile with that scowly face, Shiotsu."

"Shut up. I was born with this face, but you and Habari's recklessness certainly didn't help me to hold back my scowl."

Zenjou let out a crisp hearty laugh. Then, as if he had just remembered something, he grinned.

"Speaking about recklessness, Lieutenant Awashima is also not happy with both the current Blue King and his boy's recklessness. She's so angry when knowing that they literally walked toward suicide plans without her knowledge, intended to leave her alone to stay in Scepter 4 HQ and handle Clan's matters after their death. The discipline Lieutenant punched his superior and tried to break the boy's back with her hug."

Hearing that, Shiotsu couldn't help but snicker. Oh, he knew the feeling of that Lieutenant's frustration and exasperation very damn well.

"Of course she is, and they deserved it."

"On  that day,  Habari left your side to face Kagutsu alone. I also followed him and tried to die with him. To think about it, perhaps we both could be that reckless because we know that you can survive and take care of the rest of matters after our death. Like Awashima, do you ever feel angry-"

*BUGH*

A hard-boiled punch followed by a back-breaking hug answered Zenjou's question.

Reference :

[1] Case Files of Blue volume 2 chapter 3

[2] Fushimi Saruhiko side story

[3] Days of Blue Chapter 4

[4] Side Blue Oneshot- A Dog Reminiscence

[5] Zenjou Gouki ~ Dog Droppings, Bird Droppings

[6] K Seven Stories Side Blue

[7] K Countdown Chapter 6 : Damaged Blue

[8] K Return of King Manga Chapter 12

[9] K ~ Seven Stories ~ Piece 7: Habari Jin

[lovemychoices]

The Lost Prince - TRR AU [Liam x MC] Mini Series. CH.5

After being married for three years and unable to produce an heir, Liam and Riley are about to give up when Liam gets an unexpected news that changes his life forever.

Genre : Romance, Drama

*THIS SERIES PRACTICALLY THROWS CANON OUT THE WINDOW* YEET!YEET!

Characters except my OCs belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them

Word count : 3278

Chapter Summary: Will they find Theon?

A/N : Hey, so this is the last chapter of my mini series and the there the Epilogue/Prologue that’s going to come up a few days after this. There will be a sequel/Spin off from this mini series and the first chapter will probably be up somewhere in mid May.

So I can’t put the read more option since I’m posting via phone so this I’m tagging this under #long post.

Thank you @annekebbphotography @ao719 and @thecordoniandiaries for listening to my ideas and ramblings 😆

Warning : some Mentions of Death. Gun violence.

Catch up with the series HERE

“The prince is missing your majesty.”

Liam’s hand slams straight onto his desk making a loud thudding sound, causing the items on it to shake. “Damn it Bastien, how did this happen!” His voice elevated, he was angry and yet there was fear in his eyes. Riley could see it, she wraps her arm around her husband's shoulder. “Liam, we need to calm down if we’re going to figure out where Theon is.” Liam closes his eyes and counts in his head as he inhales and exhales before opening them up again. “You’re right we have to stay strong.” He said. “Bastien, tell the guards to search every inch of the palace, they couldn’t have gone far if the palace was heavily guarded. Check all the surveillance footage and send them to me if you see anything suspicious.”

“Already on it, your majesty, I have all the guards searching and blocking all entries no one gets in or out. As for the surveillance this was the only thing we got.” Bastien informs them by taking out his phone and shows them a footage of someone holding a package in front of the king's quarters and then the nanny opening the door and letting the person in. They were smart enough not to show their face on camera which means they knew the palace well. “Now here’s where it gets strange, after entering no one goes out. There is no footage of the kidnapper or Theon leaving the room.”

“This has to be Madeleine, I can feel it.” Riley said without a doubt. “But what I don’t understand is why? She’s been internally sabotaging us from the inside for 3 years. Why do something like this? Why now?”

“Because of Theon.” Liam answers before plopping back on his chair with his head bowed towards his knees, an expression of guilt on his face. “This is all my fault, if I hadn’t.. if I hadn’t brought Theon here he would have been safe.”

“Liam, it’s not your fault. Madeleine would have acted out eventually with or without Theon in the picture. All this time she’s been scheming right under our noses and we didn’t even know.” Drake reassures his best friend.

“Drake is right Liam, Madeleine had us all fooled. After Godfrey, we thought she would be a trustworthy ally but in reality she was playing a much longer game with her own agenda.” Olivia added. “The question is how did she manage to get in and out of the palace undetected?” Just as she said the word she looks at Liam and they both share a knowing look. “The secret passageways.” They said in unison.

“I need to head to the quarters now.” Liam said, abruptly getting up from his seat and struts toward the door.

“Maxwell, Drake and Olivia, you three go with him. I’ll stay here with Hana in case Bastien has a lead or Madeleine decides to call.” Riley said, giving Liam an assuring look. “I’ll call you immediately if there are any leads.”

Liam is hesitant to leave his wife but nods in agreement before going off to the quarters.

*************************************

A few minutes after the rest of the gang left, Riley and Hana continue to search for clues to where Madeleine could be when Mara barges into the office with a serious look on her face. “Sorry to interrupt your majesty but one of the kingsguard found something at the docks outside the palace gates. If you would come with me.”

“Is it Theon? Is he hurt?” Riley asks with a concerned expression.

“We don’t know yet Ma’am but you need to come with me.”

Riley abruptly stands from her seat. “Let me call Liam..”

“King Liam has already been informed and is on his way.”

“In that case we should go now.” Riley said, turning to face Hana. “Hana you stay here, I wouldn’t want Katherine killing me if something happens to you with all that’s been going on.”

Hana chuckles. “Alright I’ll stay but do let me know once you have something.”

A short while later Mara and Riley reach the end of the docks but when Riley looks around she notices it’s empty and no one is there, not even Liam. The only thing that was there was a small motorboat.

“Mara, there’s nobody he—.” Riley’s speech is cut short by a piece of cloth covering the bottom half of her face. Suddenly her head starts spinning and soon everything turns black.

*************************************

The group rummage through the king's quarters for almost an hour, pulling on every wall lamp and moving every picture frame to search for the hidden passageway. “How did we not know there was one here in the kings quarters?” Olivia asks as she runs her fingers across the wall searching for a hidden loose brick that could reveal a secret door. “This palace is old and frankly not all the secret passageways were recorded.” Drake answers.

“Guys over here, I think I found something!” Maxwell calls loudly from one of the spare rooms. When the group enters they see Maxwell standing in front of an open wall; inside it is a flight of stairs spiraling down. “Where do you think this leads?”

“Only one way to find out.” Drake answers then turns on his flashlight on his phone and leads the way while the others follow. After what felt like forever they finally reached a slightly closed stone wall. “Maxwell, help me with this would you?” Drake and Maxwell move the wall effortlessly, when they step out of the tunnel they are surprised that it led to the secret dock which was just below the palace outside of its wall.

“Liam, over there!” Maxwell points at the end of the dock and they both hurry towards it. Liam bends over and picks up Theon's favourite stuffed Lion, it was the first thing he gave Theon when he arrived at the palace. He is pulled out of his thoughts by a bright light hitting his eyes, not far from where Theon stuffed toy was found. There was something shiny on the surface of the wooden dock.

Liam walks towards the shiny object, his eyes go wide open when he realises it’s Riley’s engagement ring. No this can’t be not her too. He quickly takes his phone from his pocket and dials his wife, Drake and Olivia notice Liam’s frantic expression. “Liam what’s going on?” But he doesn’t answer them. “Pick up come on pick up.” He murmurs anxiously.

“Hello?”

“Hana? Where’s Riley? Why do you have her phone? Is she with you?

“Liam, I thought she was with you? Mara said you were going to meet them at the Maze, she said there was a lead on Theon’s kidnapping?”

Liam pinches the bridge of his nose trying to figure out what the hell just happened, clearly there he wasn’t told to meet Riley in the Maze or that they’ve found something. This could only mean one thing Mara was working with Madeleine this whole time. But to what end? “I think, I think they took Riley as well.” He said and showed them her ring. “She must have dropped her ring on purpose to give us a clue.”

“How did Madeleine pull all of this by herself?” Olivia asked.

“Mara. We have to get back to the palace now. Drake calls Bastien and asks him to meet us in my office. Him and only him. We’re not sure who else we can trust at the moment.” Liam said, his voice calm and commanding but his expression showed a different thing, he was scared and worried but he knew he needed to put on a brave face for his family. He couldn’t save them if he was a mess, he needed to think straight.

****************************

Riley wakes up with a painful ring in her head, she could hear the sound of water droplets like they were falling into a puddle, the air around her gave out a misty pungent smell. Slowly she tries to flutter her eyes open, letting out a low grunt before she speaks. “Where am I? What is this place? Liam?”

“Riley, Please wake up, please.” Theon’s voice pleads. “Theon?” Her blurry visions start to get clearer, she closes her eyes once more trying to focus, when she opens them again notices what looks like a cold old basement surrounding her and to her right is Theon tied up to a chair like she was, his expression scared and confused. “Theon!” Are you alright? Did they hurt you?!”

“No but I’m scared. I want my dad.” He said, tears started to well in his eyes. “I’m sorry this is all my fault.”

“No Theon it’s not. And don’t worry your dad is coming for us until then I need you to stay strong. Can you do that for us both?” Theon nods even if he feels scared and misses his dad.

Riley carefully studied their surroundings, a sudden rush of deja vu ran through her mind. It reminded her of when Anton had her and Olivia captive three years ago. “If you can survive that you can survive this. She thought to herself. If only there was a way she could let Liam know where they were, if only she knew where they were. And then it occurs to her. “Please be in my back pocket. Please be in my back pocket.” she murmurs repeatedly to herself.

A while back Riley had this habit of always losing her phone and keys, so Liam got her this little device that acts as a tracking chip and also looks like a cute keychain. Lucky for her the thing works both ways, she just had to press the button so it would give a signal out to her phone which so happens to be back at the palace.

She carefully wiggles herself and moves her wrists until finally she feels something inside her pocket, she presses the button on the keychain and hopes that Liam or somebody notices the signal.

****************************

Back at the palace in Liams office, he and the rest of the gang look for clues to where Madeleine could be. They’ve searched Fedylia; they've searched every property and estate house Amaranth owns but not even a shadow of her was seen.

“The lake is about 50 acres and then another few acres of forest covers the land after that. The boat could have docked anywhere between here and here.” Olivia pointed on the map that was laying flat on Liam's table. “The guards and the police are searching these areas as we speak but no news yet.”

“They could have hid the boats so no one would find them.” Drake mentions. “We need to narrow it down. Is there any abandoned property around these areas?.” His eyes scan the map once more. “There’s a round 2 miles from this east side. They couldn’t have carried Theon and Riley by themselves so maybe there were vehicles parked waiting for them. Liam what do you think?”

Liam stares at the map, trying to think of any possible places Riley and Theon could have been taken to. “There must be someplace I missed.” He murmurs to himself in an inaudible voice.

“Liam?”

“I don’t know Drake. I’ve had the police and kingsguard check every estate the Amaranth owned including Godfreys. So far they’ve come out empty handed. And it’s been five hours, yet Madeleine hasn’t even contacted us for any ransoms. But we cannot give up.” He turns towards Bastien who is standing at the far corner of the office. “Bastien, have the guards and the police triple the search. We will not rest until the Queen and my son are found.”Bastien nods and takes his leave.

Riley’s phone suddenly beeps continuously, Liam immediately checks to see what it could be. He had hope that it would be her calling to tell him they were alright but he got the next back thing. “It’s Riley’s keychain. She must have had it with her.” He said quickly tracking the location. “Here!” he pointed to the map on the map on the table. “I have to go.” He said in a hurry.”

“Liam wait, what about Bastien?” Drake asks worried.

“There’s no time. I text him on the way.”

“Well you can’t go alone.” Olivia said with her arms on her hips. “At least take Walker and me with you. We don’t know how many people that bithch has over there.”

“Liv’s right. You need some backup.” Drake said in agreement. Liam hesitates but nods. “Let’s go there is no time to waste.”

******

Riley struggled as much as she could to loosen the tight ropes that bonded the wrist together, when she heard the sound of chatter coming from above the stairs. She turns to Theon giving him one more reassuring look. “Whatever happens Theon, stay strong ok? Your father will be here to save us.. soon.” Theon feels scared but nods.

“I see you're finally awake.” Madeleine sneers as she approaches. “Perhaps it’s time we had a little talk.”

“Whatever it is you want Madeleine, whatever beef you have, take it out on me but let Theon go. He is innocent.” Riley said in a fierce and commanding voice, she wasn’t going to give Madeleine the satisfaction of fear.

Madeleine scoffs, taking a sharp blade and pressing it on Riley’s cheeks. “And what good would that be? No, I want Liam to suffer for what he did, I want him to break apart. Starting by killing you then the little prince in front of him.”

“Why are you doing this Madeleine? We.. We trusted you!”

“Because you took everything from me!” She belted, pressing the blade harder against Riley’s cheeks. “I was supposed to be Queen! I was supposed to rule Cordonia with the love of my life!”

“The love of your life? But you never loved Liam!”

Madeleine scoffs, throwing her hands in the air. “Typical. You think you’re so special Riley that everything revolves around you or Liam. I wasn’t talking about someone else and you killed him on the night of your wedding!”

Riley thought for a moment. What did she mean by that? And then it dawned on her. “You.. You were with Anton?”

“I wasn’t just with him. I was in love with him! We were both in love and you and Liam took that away.” She seethes, her face turning red with anger. “And now I am going to take away the only thing Liam can’t live without.” She points her blade at Riley then at Theon, a sinister smile crept on her face. “You know what. Killing the both of you and throwing your bodies in the woods for him to find. Where’s the fun in that? Maybe I’ll have him choose? Who lives and who dies? And then after that I’ll still kill whomever he chooses to live.”

“You’re a monster!”

“Maybe I am?” She sneers. “You what I’m bored.” She turns her attention towards Mara. “Mara, shoot the queen in the leg. Make her suffer a bit before we call her husband to come get her.”

Mara nods and Madeleine steps aside, watching from behind Mara as she raises her gun. “Mara why are you doing this? Why are you turning your back on the crown?” Riley asked, confused as to why Mara would do such a thing.”

“Because Riley, I was never loyal to the crown and I will never be. I serve the sons of earth.” She explains, her expression was cold. “Don’t worry your majesty, this won't hurt a bit.” Riley closes her eyes and then…

BANG!

Riley expected to feel pain but instead she felt nothing, when she opened her eyes she saw Mara Lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

“Riley! Theon!” Liam quickly ran towards them from behind with Olivia and Drake behind him. Liam and Drake quickly unite Riley and Theon while Olivia holds Madeleine at gunpoint. “It over Madeleine, there's nowhere for you to run!” Olivia sneers.

Madeleine scoffs. “That’s where you’re wrong, Nevrakis.” She takes a step back pulling a lever next to her, suddenly the room starts shaking and rubble starts to fall in front of Olivia. “This room is about to collapse. We need to get out of here now!” Liam belts, helping Riley to her feet while Drake carries Theon. “Olivia let’s go!” They make it out in time before half of the place eventually collapses to the ground.

******

3 months later..

Riley stood outside the balcony of their suite, thinking about the past few months after the kidnapping.

When they finally managed to clear through the rubble only Mara’s body was found and Madeleine’s was missing. It appears she escaped through one of the secret tunnels just after she pulled the lever. Liam seized all her accounts, he had the guards and police look for her, her picture and name were in every border gate, every station, every terminal of Cordonia. There was no way she could escape without being recognized.

Those few months were terrorizing for Riley, she was afraid that Madeleine might suddenly show up and do her worst. All she could do was pray they would find her and bring her to justice. Surely enough her prayer was answered but not in the way she had hoped, they found Madeleine but by that time she was already dead. Madeleine died in a tragic car accident, the gas tank leaked upon the coalition causing her car to explode. Her body was so badly burnt they had to use her dental records to identify that it was really her.

Adelaide died a week later from a heart attack, without an heir to the estate and not nominating anyone in her will, Liam bestowed the title Duke of Krona to his loyal and bestfriend Drake Walker.

Riley felt the crisp autumn air on her skin, after everything that happened she felt like she could finally breathe again and it was finally time for her and Liam to extend their family.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Riley is pulled away by Liam’s voice, she turns to her husband and is standing by the archway, smiling. “You said you needed to talk? It sounded serious. Should I be worried?”

Riley smiles walking towards her husband, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. “It's nothing to be worried about. I wanted to give you this.” She held out a small blue gift box wrapped with a gold ribbon. “Think of it as an advance Christmas gift.”

Liam chuckles.“If I knew we were exchanging gifts I would have prepared something for you.”

“Eh.. I’m sure you’ll make it up to me.” She smirks. “Now open it!”

Liam gives his wife a curious look before eventually opening up the box, inside it was a clear plastic bag and in that bag was what looks like a white plastic stick that had two red lines. Liam’s eyes go wide open. “Riley is this what I think it is?”

Riley nods excitedly. “I’m pregnant!” Liam picks his wife in his arms, beaming as he whirls her around. “We’re having a baby!” He howls, the words echoing throughout the palace grounds. Liam carefully places her down, tucking in the loose strands of hair behind her ear. He tilts her chin up then seals the gap with a kiss when they part they are both smiling at each other. “I love you Riley.”

“And I love you Liam.” She beams. “Now, I think it’s time we told Theon the good news.”

*****

TRR/TRH @charliejane-blog @dcbbw @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @pixieferry @lodberg @traeumerinwitzhelden @romanticatheart-posts @gnatbrain @the-soot-sprite @texaskitten30 @ao719 @desireepow-1986 @emceesynonymroll @jessiembruno @kinkykingliam @jlpplays1 @annekebbphotography @thecordoniandiaries @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @lauradowning29 @msjr0119 @janezillow w @heauxplesslydevoted @cordonia-gothqueen @kacie-0156 @bebepac @queenjilian @sanchita012

[waywardaardvark79]

Supernatural Rewrite: Season 1, Episode 9: Home

Summary:  Y/N Singer joins Sam and Dean on the road. A rewrite starring you.

Pairing: eventual Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: language, show level violence, feels???

Word Count: 10, 534 

A/N: I’ll try to do at least one episode a week. No set schedule. Tags open. 

 "Sam." you said, shaking his shoulder, his tossing and turning waking you up. "Sam, wake up." you tried again.

Sam sat up in bed, looking at you confused, "Y/N?" he asked.

You nodded your head, "Bad dream?" you asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

"Yeah, did...did you..." he trailed off, afraid to ask.

"No." you said, holding up your gloved hands, Sam nodding his head, a relieved expression on his face, "Was it Jess?"

"No." Sam said, settling himself back in bed.

"You wanna tell me about it? I'll give you your first session free." you teased, throwing his own words back at him.

"It's...I'm okay." Sam said, "It...it was just a dream."

"Sam." you said, not believing him at all.

"Really, Y/N. I'm fine." Sam said.

"You can't lie to me, Sam, and it's not because I'm some freaky mind reader either. I've known you since we were kids, and I know something is wrong. If you don't want to tell me that's fine, but I just hope you know that I'm here if you need me, and I won't judge. Trust me, I'm the last person that has room to." you said, holding up your hands and wiggling your fingers.

"Thanks, Y/N." Sam said.

"No problem, Sammy." you said, standing up to go back to your own bed.

"It's Sam." Sam teasingly said as you got back into bed.

"Mmm hmm...night, Sammy." you said, Sam chuckling.

"Night, Y/N." he said. 

The next morning the three of you were sitting in the motel room, Dean looking for cases, Sam drawing on the motel stationary, and you were scribbling in your journal. You had taken to writing in one lately, finding that writing things down helped clear your head some.

"All right, I've been cruisin' some websites. I think I found a few candidates for our next gig. A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali...it's crew vanished, and, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas. Hey." Dean said, you and Sam both looking over at him, "Am I boring you two with this hunting evil stuff?" he asked.

"No. I'm listening, keep going." Sam said, Dean looking over to you.

"Hmm, oh yeah, me too. I'm listenin'." you said.

"Really? What did I just say?" Dean asked.

"Cattle mutilations." you said, Dean shaking his head at you.

"And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times." Dean said, waving his hand in front of Sam's face, "Any of these things blowin' up your skirt, pal? What about you over there? You writin' a novel or somethin'?" Dean asked.

"Or somethin'." you said, closing your journal. "I told you I was listening. I heard everything you said, and if I had my pick I'd go with the three shots to the head guy." you said before looking over to Sam, "You better weigh in here before he flips his fuckin' lid." you said, Sam too busy looking down at the paper he was holding to respond.

"Wait. I've seen this." Sam said.

"Seen what?" you and Dean asked in unison, Sam getting up from his bed to search through his duffel bag.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked as Sam pulled out a picture from his bag, quickly holding it up to the motel stationary he had been drawing on .

"Guys, I know where we have to go next." Sam said, looking between you and Dean.

"Where?" Dean asked.

"Back home...back to Kansas." Sam said.

"Sam, are you okay?" you asked, concerned for him.

Sam nodded his head, "We have to go back." he said.

"Okay, random. Where'd that come from?" Dean asked.

Sam showed the photo he was holding to Dean, "All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Dean said.

"And it didn't burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?" Sam asked.

"I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talkin' about?" Dean asked.

"Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy, but...the people who live in our old house...I think they might be in danger." Sam said, and you quickly got up and snatched the stationary that he was drawing on.

"Why would you think that?" Dean asked.

"Uh, it's just, um...look, just trust me on this, okay?" Sam said before starting to walk away.

"Sam." you said, stopping him, holding up the stationary when he turned to look at you.

"Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Sam said before turning to you, "What is it?" he asked.

"You tell me." you said, Sam walking over to you as you flipped through the pages of your journal. "What the fuck, Sam?" you asked, pointing to a page, a rough sketch of the tree that matched the one Sam was talking about, the one he had been drawing.

"When did you do this?" Sam asked.

"This morning." you said, Dean growing more impatient by the second.

"Come on, guys. You gotta give me a little bit more than this because right now it looks like we're freakin' out over some paper." Dean said.

"I can't really explain it is all." Sam said, still looking at you.

"Yeah, me either." you said.

"Well, tough. I'm not going anywhere until you guys start talkin'." Dean said, both you and Sam glancing over at him before looking back at each other.

"How did you know to draw this?" Sam asked.

"I don't fuckin' know, Sam. It just popped in my head, and I couldn't get it out. Sometimes when I write things down it seems to help, so I did." you said.

"Y/N, I've been thinking about this since last night." Sam said, pausing for a moment, "Maybe, you..." he trailed off.

"No. No. No." you said, shaking your head, "That only happens when I touch something, and I never touched you. It's just some weird fucked up coincidence."

Sam scoffed, "Really, Y/N? A coincidence? You know better than that." Sam said.

"Hey!" Dean barked out, both you and Sam whipping around to face him, "Somebody better start fuckin' talkin', and now." he said, looking between you and Sam.

"I have these nightmares." Sam finally said.

"I've noticed." Dean said, nodding his head.

"And sometimes...they come true." Sam said, you giving his arm a gentle squeeze, letting him know that you were there.

"Come again?" Dean asked, shocked, a feeling of deja vu hitting him, this was you all over again.

"Look, Dean...I dreamt about Jessica's death...for days before it happened." Sam said.

"Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence." Dean said, sitting down on the bed, thinking to himself that he didn't know if he could handle something happening to both you and Sam.

"No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn't do anything about it cause I didn't believe it." Sam said.

Dean ran a hand through his hair before focusing on you, "Did you know about this?" he asked, "Because if I find out that you knew and you didn't tell me..."

"Dean, I-" you said, your heart pounding in your chest, Sam cutting you off.

"She didn't know. She only saw what happened to Jess. She didn't know about the dreams." Sam said, lying for you. "And now I'm dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that's where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?" Sam asked.

"I don't know." Dean said, overwhelmed. "And you've seen it, too?" he asked you.

"No, just...just the tree, and it was only for a split second. It just kept flashing in my head, kind of like a snapshot." you said.

"I...I don't know." Dean quietly said.

"What do you mean you don't know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica." Sam said, sitting down across from Dean.

"All right, just slow down, would ya?" Dean asked, standing up before he started to pace, "I mean, first you tell me that you've got the Shining, too? And, then you tell me that I've got to go back home. Especially when..." Dean trailed off.

"When what?" Sam asked.

"When I swore to myself that I would never go back there." Dean said as he continued to pace, "God damn it! I've already got too much on my plate with this shit that is goin' on with her. I can't handle it happening to you, too. Fixing one of you is enough right now. All I can think about is how I have to watch her, make sure that she doesn't go off the fuckin' deep end.  I can't be worried about you being some sort of freak, too." Dean said, the room falling silent.

"Yeah, well, you don't have to worry about me, Dean, and you sure as shit don't have to fuckin' fix me. I can take care of myself. I don't need you." you said before storming out of the room, slamming the door closed behind you.

"Shit! Y/N! I didn't mean it like that." Dean said, running his hands over his face. "This is just...too much."

"I know, Dean. I know it is, but we have to check this out. Just to make sure. I mean, especially with both of us seeing something. It has to mean something." Sam said.

"I know we do. Just...just give me a minute first." Dean said, starting for the door.

Dean saw you across the parking lot, pacing and kicking at the gravel. He took a deep breath, knowing that talking to you right now wasn't going to be easy, but he felt that he needed to explain himself to you.

"Y/N, look, I didn't mean it like that." Dean said, stopping a few feet away from you.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Dean." you said, still pacing, refusing to look in his direction, "You made yourself pretty clear back there."

"Y/N, I'm sorry, okay? I...I didn't mean it. It just came out wrong." Dean said, you still refusing to look at him, "Would you just talk to me?"

You whipped around to face him, tears staining your cheeks, "I don't have anything to say to you." you said.

"Fuck, don't cry. I'm sorry. I didn't...I don't want you to cry." Dean said, hanging his head.

"You can take your guilt and your apology and shove them up your fuckin' ass." you said. "Just get out of here. Leave me the fuck alone."

"Y/N, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It was just a heat of the moment thing." he said.

"Don't worry, asshole, my feelings aren't fuckin' hurt. I'm just really fuckin' pissed right now. I mean, God forbid I give you something else to worry about, right? I mean, I already weigh you down. I'm just some freak burden that you have to fix, right? Someone that you have to watch constantly because who knows what the freak might do next? You know, I never asked for you to swoop in and save me. I can take care of myself. It's not your fuckin' job to watch over me. I don't NEED you." you said, venom dripping from your words.

"Listen, Y/N." Dean said, trying to remain calm, "What I said...it...it came out wrong, okay? I...you don't weigh me down, and...and the freak thing...I don't think that." he said.

"Oh, see, I guess I confused the part where you said you didn't want Sam becoming some sort of freak, too. Guess, my fucked up freak brain misunderstood that." you said, shaking your head. "You know what? I'll make it easy for you, and I'll lighten your fuckin' load, take some of that weight off of your shoulders." you said, before taking off for the room.

"Oh, what does that fuckin' mean?" Dean asked, chasing after you. "Y/N!" 

You stormed back into the room, Sam looking at you wide eyed. "Hey, are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Oh, I'm just fuckin' perfect." you said, grabbing your bag, quickly shoving things inside.

"Y/N, why don't you just calm down for a second." Sam gently said.

"Not now, Sam." you said, looking around the room for your things.

"What are you doin'?" Dean asked, watching you from the door.

"I told you. I'm gonna lighten your load." you said, snatching your journal and shoving it into your bag before slinging the bag over your shoulder and turning for the door, "Get out of my way, Dean." you said, glaring at him.

"No." he clipped out, bracing himself in the doorway.

"Get out of my fuckin' way....right now." you said, standing toe to toe with him.

"No." he said again, glaring back at you, both of you close to exploding.

"I'm not above making you move, so this is your last fuckin' chance to get the fuck out of my way." you seethed.

"I'm not moving, so you do what you have to do." Dean said.

"Guys, let's just calm down and talk about this." Sam said, his hands held up in front of him as he carefully approached the two of you.

"We DON'T need to talk about anything. He already said enough." you said.

"I told you I was sorry!" Dean yelled.

"And I told you where you could shove that apology! Now move!!" you yelled back.

"I told you I wasn't movin'. You don't get to just run off. Now when you told me that you wouldn't leave." Dean said.

"Oh, no. You don't get to throw that back at me. That...that was before, and everything...everything is just fucked now. Everything's changed." you said.

"Nothin's changed for me." Dean said.

You scoffed, "How can you say that with a straight face? Everything has changed, Dean! You never had to worry about me before, or feel like you had to watch me constantly. I'm just another problem to solve now. Just another fucked up crisis that needs to be averted. I'm not gonna stick around and hang all that on you. You're...you're scared of me now. When you look at me you don't see me anymore. You don't see Y/N. You just see some..." you trailed off, taking a deep breath, "Listen, you can say whatever you want, you can deny it until you are blue in the fuckin' face, but I know the truth, okay? I know, and just let me make it easy for once. Let me go." you said.

"Y/N." Dean started to say, Sam standing in the background speechless.

You held up your hand to stop him, "Move." you said, shaking your head. "Don't make me say it again."

"No, you're gonna listen to me now." he said, Sam stepping a little closer to the two of you, afraid that he was going to have to step in.

"Maybe you two should just take a few minutes. Calm down, and then we can talk about this once everybody has cooled off." Sam said, knowing how hot headed both of you were, both of you likely to make rash decisions.

"No, she said what she wanted to say, and now I'm going to." Dean said.

"Dean." Sam warned, Dean ignoring him.

"You don't get to tell me what I think, or what I feel because you don't know." Dean said to you.

"Pretty fuckin' sure I do." you said.

"Could you just keep your mouth closed for five minutes and let me talk?" he asked.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, "Talk, but you're wasting your breath cause it's not gonna change anything." you said.

"You think everything is different now, and yeah, shit's changed, but you don't know what you're talking about. You said I never had to worry about you before. Y/N, that's all I ever fuckin' do. I worry that something is gonna happen to you, that you could hurt or worse, and that I won't be able to save you. And yeah, I know, that's not my fuckin' job, right? But, damn it, Y/N, that is my fuckin' job because I...I..." Dean said, not able to say what he wanted to, "It's my job, okay? Because you and me...we're...we're partners. That's what we do. We look out for each other, and we have each other's backs." Dean said.

"You done?" you coldly asked, looking up at him.

"I'm not scared of you. I'm scared of what's happening, and I'm scared that I don't know what to fuckin' do to help you, but I'm not scared of you. I don't think you're a...I don't think that, okay? It was just everything...hit all at once, and it just keeps coming. I'm drowning here, Y/N. I can't lose you or Sam. I...can't. I'm always the one that is supposed to know what to do, and I don't. I lost my shit and said something I didn't fuckin' mean." he said, looking down at you, unable to read your expression. "Here." he said, reaching out for your hand, "See for yourself."

You jerked your hand away from him, "I don't need to see anything. Move." you said.

"Y/N." Dean said, his voice so small, so defeated.

"Are we goin' to Kansas, or not?" you asked, not looking at him, Dean reluctantly stepping aside, "I'll be at the car." 

Dean stood there and watched you walked away, part of him still ready to chase after you, afraid that you would walk right by the car and just keep going. He let out a slow breath when he saw you drop your bag and lean against the side of the car.

"I'm such a fuckin' idiot. She hates me. God, why did I fuckin' say that?" he asked, afraid to take his eyes off of you.

"Yeah, you probably could have worded that a little better." Sam said, Dean nodding his head.

"You, uh, you mind gettin' my stuff?" Dean asked, not wanting to turn his back on you.

"She's not going anywhere, Dean." Sam said.

"You don't know that, and I..." Dean said, stopping himself before he said too much.

"Yeah, I do. She's not going anywhere. You two are just..." Sam said, shaking his head in frustration. "You guys are blind. You can't see it."

"See what? Cause I can clearly see that she fuckin' hates me." Dean said.

"She doesn't hate you. She...listen, it's not easy to hear something like that from someone you care about. She's scared enough already. She may not act like it, but she is. We both know that, but I know that she isn't going anywhere. So, just get your stuff and come on." Sam said, tossing his last few things in his bag before walking out the door. 

The drive to Kansas was awkward to say the least, you and Dean tip toeing around each other, communicating through Sam when it wasn't absolutely necessary to talk to each other, and when Dean pulled up in front of their childhood home you couldn't get out of the car fast enough.

"You gonna be alright, man?" Sam asked, Dean glancing at the house before looking at you.

"Let me get back to you on that." he said, him and Sam getting out of the car. 

The three of you walked to the door in silence, Dean knocking on the door, a woman answering it a few moments later.

"Yes?" she asked, Sam looking at her in shock, she was the woman from his dream.

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we're with the Federal-" Dean said, Sam quickly interrupting.

"I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean. We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin' by and we were wondering if we could come see the place." Sam said.

"Winchester. Yeah, that's so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night. I don't remember seeing a sister, though." she said, looking over to you.

"Oh, no. That's Y/N. She's my-" Dean said, you stepping in.

"I'm an old family friend." you said, smiling at her, missing the look on Dean's face.

"Well, come on in." she said, stepping aside to let the three of you in. 

The three of you followed Jenny into the kitchen to see a little girl sitting at the table, and a toddler jumping up and down excitedly in his playpen.

"Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!" the little boy yelled.

"That's Ritchie. He's kind of a juice junkie." Jenny said, taking a sippy cup out of the fridge before walking over to Ritchie, "But, hey, at least he won't get scurvy." she said, walking over to the little girl next, "Sari, this is Sam, Dean, and Y/N. Sam and Dean used to live here."

"Hi." Sari said, you and Dean waving at her.

"Hey, Sari." Sam greeted.

"Why are you wearing gloves? You're not supposed to wear them in the house, only when you're outside." Sari said, looking at you.

"Sari." Jenny scolded, looking at you embarrassed.

"You're right, Sari." you said, pulling off your gloves, Dean looking over at you, a worried expression on his face. "You know, sometimes I just forget that I have them on." you said, tucking your gloves into your pocket.

"So, you just moved in?" Dean asked, trying to get down to business.

"Yeah, from Wichita." Jenny said.

"You got family here, or?" Dean asked.

"No, I just...uh, needed a fresh start, that's all. So, new town, new job...I mean, as soon as I find one. New house." she said.

"So, how you likin' it so far?" Sam asked.

"Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home. I mean, I'm sure you had lots of happy memories here." she said, Dean smiling weakly at her, "But this place has it's issues."

"Issues?" you asked.

"What do you mean?" Sam quickly added.

"Well, it's just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights almost hourly." she said, the three of you instantly alert.

"Oh, that's too bad. What else?" Dean asked.

"Um...sink's backed up, there's rats in the basement. I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain." she said.

"No." Dean said, not offended at all, "Have you seen the rats?" he asked.

"Or, have you just heard them? The scratching?" you asked.

"It's just the scratching actually." Jenny said.

"Mom?" Sari asked, Jenny kneeling down next to her, "Ask them if it was here when they lived here." Sari said.

"What, Sari?" Sam asked.

"The thing in my closet." she said.

"Oh, no, baby. There was nothing in their closets." Jenny said, looking at Sam and Dean, "Right?"

"Right. No, no, of course not." Sam said, glancing over at you, and you didn't need to be able to read minds to know what he was thinking.

"She had a nightmare the other night." Jenny explained.

"I wasn't dreaming. It came into my bedroom, and it was on fire." Sari said, shocking the three of you.

"Hey, Sari." you said, walking over to her and kneeling beside her, reaching out to place your hand on hers, "You don't have anything to be scared of." you said, trying to keep your facial expression under control as you saw what she was talking about, "Sometimes, new places can be scary, but nothing bad is going to happen. Sometimes dreams can feel like they're real, but you're safe here." you said, trying to memorize everything you could about the figure. 

The three of you were walking back to the car, "You guys hear that? A figure on fire." Sam said, before looking over at you, "Did you see it?"

"Yeah, it was just like she said. It was just a figure, an outline of a body. I couldn't make out a face or any other details. It was just standing there, engulfed in flames. I couldn't get a read on it like I have before. I didn't feel any emotions attached to it." you said, pulling your gloves back on.

"And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dream?" Dean asked Sam.

"Yeah, and did you guys hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit." Sam said, you nodding your head.

"You're right." you said.

"Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin' true." Dean said, immediately cringing, scared of how you would take it.

"I think that's the least of or our problems right now." you said.

"Yeah, Y/N's right. Forget about that for a minute." Sam said, pausing for a moment, "The thing in the house, do you guys think it's the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?" Sam asked.

"I don't know." Dean said.

Sam shook his head, "Well, I mean, has it come back, or has it been here the whole time?" Sam asked.

"Sam, let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet. We don't know anything for sure." you said.

"Well, those people are in danger. We have to get 'em out of that house." Sam said.

"Yeah, I agree with that." you said. "We definitely need to get them out, and fast."

"And we will." Dean said.

"No, I mean now." Sam said.

"And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she's gonna believe?" Dean asked.

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Sam asked.

"We need to just take a step back and stop letting emotions take over." you said, the three of you getting into the car. 

The three of you were standing outside of the gas station while Dean pumped gas, "Y/N's right. We just gotta chill out, that's all. You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?" Dean asked.

"Well, first, we'd try to figure out what the fuck we're dealing with." you said.

Sam sighed, "We'd dig into the history of the house." he said.

"Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened." Dean said.

"Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?" Sam asked.

"Not much. I remember the fire...the heat." Dean said, pausing a moment, and you had to stop yourself from reaching out for his hand. You knew how hard this was for him, "And then I carried you out the front door."

"You did?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, what, you never knew that?" Dean asked.

"No." Sam said, shaking his head.

"And, well, you guys know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was...was on the ceiling, and whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her." Dean said.

"And he never had a theory about what did it?" Sam asked.

"If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times." Dean said, you nodding your head.

"I never heard him ever mention anything to Dad either." you said.

"Okay. So, if we're gonna figure out what's goin' on now...we have to figure out what happened back then, and see if it's the same thing." Sam said.

"Yeah. We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time." Dean said.

"Does...does this feel like just another job to you?" Sam asked, Dean remaining quiet.

"Look, guys. I can take the lead on this one. I can do all of the questioning if you want me to. Whatever will make it easier." you said, neither brother saying anything.

"I'll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom." Dean said before walking away, leaving you and Sam alone. 

"Are you okay?" Sam asked once Dean walked away.

"I think I should be the one asking you that." you said.

"I'm...I don't know what I am." Sam said, you nodding your head.

"Yeah, me either, Sam. Me either, but we'll figure it out, right?" you asked.

"Yeah, we will." Sam said.

"Hey, thanks for covering my ass back there at the motel. You know, with Dean. If he found out that I knew, and didn't tell him...I'm sure everything would be a lot worse." you said.

"You know, he didn't mean it , right? I mean, I know he said it, and he shouldn't have. I'm not defending him, but he...he doesn't think of you that way." Sam said.

"I know." you said, hoping that Sam would drop it. 

Dean stood next to the bathroom door, and pulled out his cell phone, making sure that no one could see him before dialing.

"This is John Winchester. If this is an emergency call my son, Dean at 866-907-3235, or Y/N Singer at 866-907-0726." John's voicemail said before the beep.

"Dad? I know I've left messages before. I don't even know if you'll get them." Dean said, clearing his throat. "But I'm with Y/N and Sam, and we're in Lawrence. And there's somethin' in our old house. I don't know if it's the thing that killed Mom or not, but..." he said, his voice breaking, barely keeping himself together, "I don't know what to do." he added, starting to cry, "So, whatever you're doin', if you could get here. Please. I need your held, Dad." he said before hanging up the phone, tears in his eyes. 

"So, you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?" Dean asked, the three of you standing in the middle of an auto repair shop, talking with the owner.

"Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh...twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of sudden?" the owner asked.

"We're re-opening some of our unsolved cases, and the Winchester disappearance is one of them." you said.

"Oh, well, what do you wanna know about John?" the owner asked.

"Whatever you remember, you know, whatever sticks out in your mind." Dean said.

"Well...he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that." he said, laughing. "And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It's that whole marine thing." he said, the three of you nodding. "But, oh, he sure loved Mary, and he doted on those kids."

"But that was before the fire?" Sam asked.

"That's right." the owner said.

"He ever talk about that night?" Sam asked.

"No, not at first. I think he was in shock." the owner said.

"Right, but eventually? What did he say about it?" you asked.

"Oh, he wasn't thinkin' straight. He said somethin' caused that fire and killed Mary." the man explained.

"He ever say what did it?" Dean asked.

"Nothin' did it. It was an accident...an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or somethin'. I begged him to get some help, but..." he trailed off.

"But what?" Dean asked.

"Oh, he just got worse and worse." the man said.

"How?" you asked.

"Oh, he started readin' these strange old books. He started goin' to see this palm reader in town." the man said.

"Palm reader?" you asked, the man nodding his head.

"Do you have a name?" Dean asked.

"No." the man scoffed.

"Well, thank you for your time, sir." you said, giving him a tight lipped smile before the three of you walked away. 

Dean parked the car by a payphone, and the two of you leaned against the car while Sam flipped through a phone book.

"All right, so there are a few psychics and palm readers in town. There's someone named El Divino. There's, uh." Sam paused, laughing, "There's the Mysterious Mister Fortinsky, uh, Missouri Moseley."

"Wait, wait. Missouri Moseley?" Dean asked.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Missouri Moseley? That's a psychic?" you asked.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess so." Sam said, Dean going into the backseat to get John's journal.

"In Dad's journal...here, look at this." Dean said, opening it to the first page, "First page, first sentence, read that." Dean said to Sam, you already knowing what it said.

"I went to Missouri and I learned the truth." Sam read aloud.

"I always thought he meant the state." Dean said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah, me too." you said. 

The three of you were sitting on a couch in Missouri's house, waiting, watching as she escorted a man to the door.

"All right, there. Don't you worry 'bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you." she said, the man thanking her before she closed the door behind him, "Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold bangin' the gardener." she said.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Dean asked.

"People don't come here for the truth. They come for good news." she said, the three of you staring at her. "Well, Sam, Dean, Y/N, come on already. I ain't got all day." she said before leaving the room.

"Well, I guess we know she's legit." you said, standing up from the couch, Sam and Dean following after you. 

"Well, lemme look at ya." she said, when the three of you walked into the room. "Oh, you boys grew up handsome." she said before pointing a finger at Dean, "And you were one goofy looking kid, too." she said, Sam smirking.

"I like her." you said, chuckling, Dean glaring at you.

"Oh, honey." she said, grabbing your hand, looking down at your glove, "Aren't you a special one? Mmm hmm...very special." she said, confusing you, did she know what was happening to you?

"Sam." she said, grabbing his hand, "Oh, honey...I'm so sorry about your girlfriend. And your father...he's missing?" she asked, each of you looking at her in shock.

"How'd you know all that?" Sam asked.

"Well, you were just thinkin' it just now." she said, Sam raising his eyebrows, surprised.

"Well, where is he? Is he okay?" Dean asked.

"I don't know." Missouri said.

"Don't know? Well, you're supposed to be a psychic, right?" Dean asked.

"Boy, you see me sawin' some bony tramp in half? You think I'm a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please." she said, the three of you sitting down, "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, Im'ma whack you with a spoon." Missouri snapped.

"I didn't do anything." Dean said.

"But you were thinkin' about it." she said, Dean raising his eyebrows.

"Okay, so, my dad...when did you first meet him?" Sam asked.

"He came to me for a reading a few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say...I drew back the curtains for him." Missouri said.

"What about the fire? Do you know what killed our mom?" Dean asked.

"A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin' I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing." she said.

"And could you?" you asked, your mind racing with a million questions that you wanted to ask her.

"I..." she trailed off, shaking her head.

"What was it?" Sam asked.

"I don't know." she softly said, "Oh, but it was evil. That's why you're here. You think somethin' is back in that house?" she asked.

"Definitely." you said, Sam nodding his head.

"I don't understand." Missouri said.

"What?" Sam asked.

"I haven't been back inside, but I've been keepin' an eye on the place, and it's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin' up now?" she asked.

"I don't know, but Dad going missing and Jessica dying, and now this house all happening at once...it just feels like something's starting." Sam said.

"And it sure as shit doesn't feel good." you said.

"That's a comforting thought." Dean said. 

The four of you were getting ready to go back to Jenny's house, Missouri agreeing to come along to see if she could sense anything, when you pulled her to the side.

"I...am I...do you know what's happening to me? Am I a psychic like you?" you asked.

"Oh, sweet child." she said, grabbing your hands, "Honey, I don't know what's happening."

"But you said I was special. You have to know something. Anything?" you asked.

"You are special. You have an energy about you that I have never felt before, but I don't have any answers for you. I wish I did." she said, your face falling.

"Me too." you said, giving her a weak smile, the two of you walking to join Sam and Dean. 

The four of you were waiting at Jenny's door, "Sam, Dean, Y/N. What are you doing here?" she asked, a little frazzled.

"Hey Jenny. This is our friend, Missouri." Sam said.

"If it's not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house, you know for old times sake." Dean said.

"You know, this isn't a good time. I'm kind of busy." Jenny said.

"Listen, Jenny, it's important." Dean said, Missouri smacking him on the back of the head, "Ow!" he said.

"Give the poor girl a break, can't you see she's upset?" Missouri asked Dean before turning to Jenny, "Forgive this boy, he means well, he's just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out." she said, Dean looking stunned.

"Oh, I really like her." you said, Dean elbowing you.

"About what?" Jenny asked.

"About this house." Missouri said.

"Who are you?" Jenny asked.

"We're people who can help. Who can stop this thing, but you're gonna have to trust us, just a little." Missouri said, Jenny looking unsure. 

A few moments later, Missouri, and you, Sam, and Dean were standing in Sari's bedroom.

"If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it." Missouri said.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened." she said, Sam glancing up at the ceiling while Missouri looked around the room, you and Dean both pulling out an EMF meter. "Those EMFs?" she asked.

"Yeah." Dean said.

"Amateurs." she said, you and Dean both glaring at her. "Take those gloves off. You'll get more than that meter could ever tell you." she said.

You tucked your EMF meter back in your pocket, and looked down at your hands, scared to remove your gloves.

"Y/N." Dean said, worry in his voice, you glancing over at him before removing your gloves.

"I don't know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this isn't the thing that took your mom." Missouri said.

"What? Are you sure?" Sam asked, Missouri nodding her head. "How do you know?"

"It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It's somethin' different." she said, pulling you along with her.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"Not it." she said, opening the closet, "Them." she said, looking over at you, grabbing your hand and placing it against the inner closet wall.

You could feel it, something horrible, evil. You could feel it's eyes on you even though you couldn't see it. A scream made you whip around, and you could see John on the floor, looking up at the ceiling in horror.

You jerked your hand back, no longer able to stand it and you frantically pulled at your gloves in your pocket, desperate to get them back on.

"There's more than one spirit in here." Missouri said, Dean focusing on you instead of listening to her.

"What are they doing here?" Dean finally asked, still looking over at you in concern.

"They're here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds, and sometimes, wounds get infected." Missouri said, Dean listening as he kept his eyes on you.

"I don't understand." Sam said.

"This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It's attracted a poltergeist, a nasty one, and it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead." Missouri said.

"You said there was more than one spirit." Sam said.

"There is. I just can't quite make out the second one." Missouri said.

"Could you, Y/N?" Sam asked, "Y/N?" he asked again when you didn't answer.

Dean walked over to you, putting his hand on your shoulder, making you jump, "Hey." Dean said, trying to get you to focus on him. "You, okay?" he asked. "Y/N." he said, placing his finger under your chin, lifting it so that you were looking at him." You okay?" he asked.

You stepped back form him, "Yeah." you said, nodding your head. "I'm...I'm fine."

"Y/N?" Dean asked, not believing you for a second.

"I said I'm fine, Dean." you said before turning to Sam, "What did you say?" you asked.

"Could you sense the other spirit?" Sam asked.

"No." you quickly said, shaking your head. "I...no."

"Don't take those off again." Dean said to you, worried about what you weren't telling him.

You didn't argue with him, or have some snarky comeback. You just nodded your head in agreement.

"Well, one thing's for damn sure...nobody's dyin' in this house ever again. So, whatever is here, how do we stop it?" Dean asked. 

The four of you were back at Missouri's house, sitting around a table covered in different herbs and roots.

"So, what is all this stuff anyway?" Dean asked.

"Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds and ends." Missouri said.

"Yeah? What are we supposed to do with it?" Dean asked.

"You put them inside the walls in the north, south, east, and west corners on each floor of the house." you said, Dean raising a brow at you. "Me and Dad." you simply said, Dean understanding that you must have worked a similar case with Bobby.

"We'll be punchin' holes in the dry wall. Jenny's gonna love that." Dean said.

"She'll live." Missouri said.

"And this'll destroy the spirits?" Sam asked.

"It should. It should purify the house completely. We'll each take a floor, but we work fast. Once the spirit's realize what we're up to, things are gonna get bad." Missouri said. 

The four of you were back at Jenny's house, Missouri walking Jenny and the kids out before joining you, Sam, and Dean in the kitchen. Dean was handing out bags, and telling everyone where to go.

You held out your hand to him, waiting for your bag, and for him to tell you where to go.

"You're with me." he said, Sam and Missouri walking off to their designated locations.

"I don't need a babysitter." you said.

"Never said you did." Dean said, looking for a place to put the bag.

"You don't have to watch me constantly." you said, pointing out a place on the wall.

Dean looked over at you, "Look, I know that somethin' happened to you here earlier, and you don't have to tell me, but I'm not lettin' you out of my sight. So, get mad, yell, do whatever you have to do, but you do it here, where I can see you." Dean said.

"You gonna put that in the wall, or what?" you asked, deciding not to argue with him, Dean raising an eyebrow at you, fully expecting a fight, "I'm not gonna yell at you. Let's just do what we have to do." you said, Dean punching a hole in the wall with a small ax.

Your back was to him, your eyes on the rest of the kitchen, a noise catching your attention. You looked over just in time to see the kitchen drawer opening by itself.

"Dean!" you yelled, grabbing him and pulling him away, just as a knife hurled itself into the cabinet. "Fuck." you breathed out.

"Get down!" Dean yelled, pushing you to the ground before you could even realize what was happening, flipping a table in front of the two of you before covering you with his body, knives piercing the table a few seconds later.

"Oh, shit. Sam." you breathed out, Dean's weight crushing you. "Go!"

Dean pushed himself off of you and took off for the stairs. You got to your feet as fast as you could and followed after him. 

"Sam!" Dean yelled, running into the room to see Sam lying on the floor, the cord from the lamp wrapped tightly around his neck.

Dean rushed over to him and tried to get the cord off, but it wouldn't budge no matter what he did.

"The bag. Where the fuck is the bag?" you asked, Dean quickly tossing it to you.

You ran over to the wall, and started to kick it, finally breaking through and quickly shoving the bag of herbs inside, a blinding white light leaving the room. 

Once the spirit was gone, you made your way back to Sam and knelt by his side as Dean unraveled the cord from his neck. Dean pulled him into a fierce hug and you sat back on your heels, placing your hand on Sam's shoulder, relieved that he was okay. 

A few hours later you, Sam, Dean, and Missouri were standing in the middle of Jenny's extremely messy kitchen, everything basically destroyed.

"You sure this is over?" Sam asked.

"I'm sure. Why? Why do you ask?" Missouri asked.

"Never mind." Sam sighed. "It's nothin', I guess." he said, looking over at you, you shaking your head at him, knowing this wasn't over.

"Hello? We're home." Jenny said, walking into the kitchen and looking around, "What happened?" she asked.

"Hi, sorry. Um, we'll pay for all of this." Sam said, you and Dean looking at each other confused.

"Don't you worry. Dean's gonna clean up this mess." Missouri said, Dean standing there not moving. "Well, what are you waiting for , boy? Get the mop." she said.

"Come on. I'll help you." you said, you and Dean walking away.

"And don't cuss at me!" Missouri yelled, Dean muttering under his breath. 

You, Sam and Dean were sitting in the car outside of Jenny's house, you and Sam both insisting on sticking around.

"All right, so tell me again, what we are still doin' here?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. I just...still have a bad feeling." Sam said.

"Me too. This shit isn't over yet." you said.

"Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean. It should be over." Dean said.

"Yeah, well, probably. But, I just wanna make sure, that's all." Sam said.

"Look, I know you think we're both fuckin' nuts, but I'm telling you this isn't over." you said.

"Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now." Dean said, sliding down in his seat and closing his eyes.

"And he says I'm the dramatic one." you muttered, Sam smirking before looking up at Jenny's bedroom window, Jenny standing there screaming for help just like in his dream.

"Guys. Look, guys!" Sam yelled, the three of you getting out of the car and running towards the house.

"You two grab the kids, I'll get Jenny." Dean said before rushing inside. 

You had Ritchie in your arms, and were following after Sam to Sari's room, both of you hearing her scream for help.

"Don't look. Don't look!" Sam said, the fire figure standing there, as he picked her up, the two of you rushing downstairs with the children.

You watched as Sam put Sari down, "What are you doing?" you asked.

"Sari, go with Y/N. She'll take you and your brother to your mom." Sam said.

"Don't do this, Sam. It's fuckin' stupid. You can't stop that thing." you said.

"Get them out of here, Y/N!" Sam yelled.

You put Ritchie down, "All right, Sari , take your brother outside as fast as you can, and don't look back no matter what." you said, pushing them towards the door.

"Sam." you said, turning back to face him, a sudden invisible force making both of you fall to the ground before dragging the two of you backwards across the floor into another room.

Sari ran outside with Ritchie, both of them rushing over to Dean and Jenny, "Sari, where's Sam, and Y/N?" Dean asked, getting down on Sari's level.

Sari looked at him, crying, "They're inside. Something's got them." she said, Dean looking at the front door in panic. 

You and Sam were in the kitchen, both of you being flung around like rag dolls before the invisible force pinned both of you to the wall, neither of you able to move at all.

"Sam? Y/N?" you head Dean call out, and you knew he was making his way to you.

"Sam! Y/N!" Dean yelled when he saw the two of you pinned against the wall, the fire figure in front of the two of you.

Dean raised his gun, "No, don't! Don't!" Sam yelled.

"No fuckin' way. It can't be." you said to yourself.

"What, why?" Dean asked.

"Because I know who it is. I can see her now." Sam said.

"Listen to him, Dean." you said, the fire vanishing, Mary Winchester standing before the three of you exactly as she was the night she died.

Dean's expression softened, and he lowered his gun, "Mom?" he softly asked, Mary smiling and stepping closer to him.

"Dean." Mary said, tears forming in Dean's eyes.

You watched, both you and Sam still pinned to the wall, as she walked up to Sam.

"Sam." she said, Dean never taking his eyes off of her, Sam crying and giving her a weak smile, "I'm sorry." she said.

"For what?" Sam asked, Mary looking at him sadly, but saying nothing before turning to you.

She looked at you, her mouth never moving, but you heard her words loud and clear, "Watch over them. Take care of my boys. They need you. He needs you." she thought, and you nodded your head the best you could, letting her know that you got her message.

Mary walked away from you and looked up at the ceiling, "You get out of my house, and you let go of her and my son." Mary said, once again bursting into flames, the fire reaching the ceiling once she was entirely engulfed before disappearing.

The force holding you and Sam to the wall was released, both of you walking over to Dean, the three of you looking at each other stunned, before you pulled both of them into a hug.

"Now, it's over." Sam said.

"Yeah." you said, "It's over." 

The next morning you and Dean were standing next to the car with Jenny, Dean looking through the photo's she gave him, "Thanks for these." he said.

"Don't thank me. They're yours." Jenny said, as Dean put the photos into the car.

"Hey, I'll be right back." you said before walking over to Sam and Missouri. 

"Well, there are no spirits in there anymore, this time for sure." Missouri said.

"Not even my Mom?" Sam asked, your heart breaking for him.

"No." Missouri said.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"Your mom's spirit and the poltergeist's energy, they cancelled each other out. Your mom destroyed herself goin' after the thing." Missouri explained.

"Why would she do something like that?" Sam asked, you reaching down to grab his hand.

"Well, to protect her boys, of course." Missouri said, Sam nodding his head, tears in his eyes as he squeezed onto your hand. "Sam, Y/N. I'm sorry." she said.

"For what?" you asked.

"The two of you sensed that it was here, didn't you? Even when I couldn't." she said.

"What's happening to us?" Sam asked.

"I know I should have all the answers, but I don't." she said.

"Sam! Y/N! You ready?" Dean called out, both you and Sam turning to walk away, Missouri reaching out to grab your hand, stopping you.

"I'll be right there, Sam." you said, turning back to face her once Sam walked away. 

Missouri put her hand on your shoulder, "I know that you're scared, full of doubt, but I want you to know that there's one thing you never have to worry about." she said.

"What's that?" you asked, hoping she had some sort of answer for you.

"You mean the world to that boy." she said, looking over you shoulder to see Dean's eyes glued to you.

You shook your head, "I'm not so sure about that. He's scared of me." you said.

"No, he's scared, but not of you. He's scared that something is gonna happen to you and he won't be able to do anything to stop it." Missouri said.

"Y/N!" Dean called out, you looking over your shoulder at him before turning back to Missouri.

"Thank you." you said, before walking away to the car. 

"Don't you kids be strangers." Missouri said.

"We won't." Dean assured her.

"See you around." Missouri said, "And Y/N, you remember what I said, honey." she added as the three of you were getting in the car.

"I will." you said, the three of you giving them a final wave before driving off. 

Missouri walked into her house and sat her purse down on the table.

"That boy, he has such powerful abilities, and the girl is even stronger, why they couldn't sense you, I have no idea." she said.

"Mary's spirit...do you really think she saved the boys...Y/N?" John asked.

"I do." Missouri said, John nodding his head sadly as he twisted his wedding ring on his finger, "John Winchester, I could just slap you. Why won't you go talk to your children, and Y/N?" she asked.

"I want to." John tearfully said, "You have no idea how much I wanna see 'em, all of 'em, but I can't. Not yet. Not until I know the truth." John said, him and Missouri sharing a look. 

The three of you checked into a motel for the night, all of you completely drained, both physically and emotionally.

You looked over at Dean, who was sleeping on his side, facing away from you, both of you making sure to stay on your own side of the bed.

You eased the covers back, and sat up before grabbing your jeans and boots from the floor and slipping them on. You tip toed across the room and eased the door open, closing it gently behind you before making your way over to the hood of the Impala.

You climbed up and leaned back against the windshield, closing your eyes once you were settled, the sound of a door opening and closing catching your attention a few minutes later.

You let out a heavy sigh," Sam, go back in there and tell him I'm not going anywhere. He can lift the house arrest." you said.

"Well, I guess, that's good to know." Dean said, your eyes popping open once you heard him speak.

"Go back to bed, Dean. I'm not going anywhere. I...I just need to clear my head." you said.

"I know somethin' that might help with that. You wanna take a drive?" Dean asked.

"Not particularly." you said, your eyes closed.

Dean sighed, "I asked if you wanted to take a drive." he said, again.

"And, I said not particularly." you said, opening your eyes and sitting up, Dean tossing the keys into your lap.

"What about now?" he asked.

You grabbed the keys, "Really, Dean? What happened to life ain't fair, and you'll never drive again after what you did in Tampa?" you asked.

"Are you gonna sit there askin' me a million questions or are  you gonna drive?" Dean asked, walking to the passenger side of the car. 

The two of you were in the car, you behind the wheel, both  of you sitting in silence as you drove down the empty highway, no particular destination in mind.

"What...what happened back there at the house?" Dean finally asked, his voice a little rough from disuse.

"Sam wasn't coming out, and I wasn't going to let him stay in there alone." you said, your eyes on the road.

"I know that. I'm talking about what happened in the closet. What did you see?" Dean asked.

"Dean." you breathed out, dreading the conversation. "I don't want to do this."

"Please. I...was it my mom? Did you see her?" he asked.

"No." you said, shaking your head, "At first...I didn't see anything, but I could feel something, something bad, and it scared the shit out of me. Then, I heard screaming and I looked over and John was on the floor, looking at up the ceiling. I...I...couldn't take it after that. I could feel what he was feeling and I couldn't take it. I pulled my hand off after that, and then nothing." you said, both of you slipping into silence.

"You know, I really am sorry...about what I said." Dean said after a few minutes.

"Dean, I don't want to fight you with you. I don't have it in me right now. Let's just forget it happened, okay? I'm sure it won't be the last time we blow up at each other." you said, glancing over at him, "You know, since we're both assholes most of the time."

The corner of Dean's mouth turned up, "Were...were you really gonna do it? Leave?" he asked.

"What happened to forgetting it ever happened?" you asked, Dean looking over at you, silently begging for you to answer his question. "I...I don't know, Dean, okay? I don't know." you said.

Dean nodded his head, "You wanted to go." he said.

"I didn't WANT to go, but I'm not gonna stick around if you don't want me here. I...I...don't want you to think I'm your responsibility, that it's your job to look out for me. I don't want to weigh you down, De. You fuckin' deal with enough. You don't need my crazy on top of it. So, no, I didn't want to leave, but if it would make it easier on you, I will." you said.

Dean was quiet for a moment, "I know you don't need me." he finally said.

"That's not what I said, Dean. I don't need you to save me. I don't want you drivin' yourself fuckin' nuts worrying about what's happening to me. One of us doing that is enough." you said, pausing for a moment, "But, I do need you. I need, I need you to...fuck, I just need you to be, Dean. You know, I just want us to be...us." you said, glancing over at him. "You know, the us we were before all the magic fingers...freak mind reading bullshit." you said.

Dean nodded his head, "I need you here, you know? I know I fucked up, and you got to believe me when I say that I didn't mean it that way. Ever since I said it all I've thought about is how I wish I could take it back. I...I never want to hurt you, and then when I saw you cryin'-" Dean said, you interrupting him.

"I was crying because I was mad. You know I cry when I'm really pissed. That's all it was." you said, lying, not wanting him to beat himself up about it.

"Listen, I know I can't do the whole mind reading thing, but we both know that's not the whole truth. I'm not doubting that you were pissed. Trust me, I know you were, but I know I crossed a line, and I know I hurt you." he said.

You shrugged your shoulders, "It's fine. I'm over it." you said.

"You're not, and that's okay. I get it. I just wanted to tell you...that I'm sorry, and that even though you're a huge pain in my ass, I kinda need you to stick around. I don't want you to go anywhere. Just...please don't go."  he said.

"I'm not going anywhere, Winchester. I mean, who else would watch out for you? Save your ass? And poor Sam can't put up with you by himself. I couldn't do that to him. Don't worry, okay? It's gonna take more than that to get rid of me." you said.

Dean nodded his head, "I, uh, I don't want you to think that I see you differently. I don't, even though some things have changed. Y/N, I,uh...I...I, care about you, okay? So, I don't care that you can read minds, or that you have magic fuckin' fingers. Hell, I wouldn't care if you woke up tomorrow and could shoot rainbows outta your ass. You're still Singer to me, and you always will be...no matter what happens."

"Shoot rainbows outta my ass, huh? Now that would be money in the bank. You know, we could take that show on the road. So long hustling pool and credit card scams. Sam would be so proud." you teased, neither of you good with the whole feelings thing. "You know, we really got to come up with something besides magic fingers. I mean, every time I hear it all I can think about are those cheesy motel beds." you said.

"Hey, I love those." Dean said.

"Yeah, I know." you chuckled. "I, uh, I'm gonna say some shit now, and just listen because I'm only gonna say it once." you said, glancing over at him.

"Okay." Dean said, a little worried.

"I'm not going anywhere, and I know I already told you that, but I need you to hear it again because I know you. I know that you are gonna sit there, and beat yourself up, and think that I hate you. I don't fuckin' hate you. I don't think I ever could. And, I know that we're gonna lose our shit again, and probably say shit we don't mean, but no matter what you say to me, no matter what happens...I could never hate you. I, uh...you know...the whole caring thing, well, me too, okay?" you said, taking your right hand off the wheel and laying it open in the seat beside you, palm up, "So, we good, De?" you asked.

"Yeah, Singer. We're good." he said, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. 

The two of you stayed like that, sitting in comfortable silence, your hands still clasped together as you drove.

"We, uh, we better turn back. I bet Sam is wondering what happened." Dean said.

"Yeah." you said, looking over at him, "Or...we could go to a strip club." you said, a smirk on your face as you wiggled your eyebrows at him.

Dean threw his head back, his shoulders shaking with laughter, "You really had to go there? You just got the keys back." he said, shaking his head at  you, a smile on his face.

"Oh, come on, De. Live a little. You, me, some tear away pants. It could be fun." you said.

"Never again." He said, shaking his head. "I can't believe you brought that up." he said, laughing to himself.

"Well, I wouldn't be me, if I didn't." you said.

"Yeah, you're right about that, Singer." Dean said, squeezing your hand, "You're right about that." he softly repeated to himself, a smile on his face as the two of you drove back to the motel to pick up Sam. 

A/N: I just want to say thank you to everyone that takes the time to read these. The likes, comments, and reblogs mean the world to me, and I love reading what you guys have to say. So, thank you for being fuckin’ awesome. <3 

Tags: @miraclesoflove @22sarah08 @deans-baby-momma​ @spnae​ @karikatz12481​ @spngirl05​ @winchester-fantasies​ @freddiemermaytaydeac

@rainbowkisses31​ @in-deans-arms @scentedhoundshepherdmoney​ @teamfreewillisbae​ @it-could-go-off​​​

[irndad]

top of the world- s.h.

a/n: first steve harrington fic! 

summary: at a party, with his new girlfriend, steve spills a drink on her dress, and she says something that gives him deja vu in the worst of ways. (ends well, though) 

The thing about it is, since the beginning, he’d always been waiting for the moment the rug would be pulled out from under him.

And Steve, he knew her. Trusted her. His girlfriend, of a few months now, was the kind of woman who could make you feel like the world was a good place, like there’s something to hope for whenever she’s near. She’s so good to him, from the night they met and every night since, flustered when he flirts but kind when it’s obvious he just wants affection back.

She might be the best thing that ever happened to him.

After what happened with Nancy, (bullshit, you’re bullshit) it wasn’t easy to believe someone was honest about loving him. That someone he chose could do the same back, in all the ways he did. And he’s so goddamn lucky that she transferred in her senior year, that all the cards fell the way that they did, because she is so wonderful.

They met when he’d offered to show her around the school, and she’d been nervous but sweet, a silly nervous tick of brushing hair behind her ear even when it hadn’t fallen, just so she’d had something to do. She liked his kind of music and talked too much and too loud in all the best ways.

She’d just been so pretty, pretty eyes and pretty laugh and just- really endearing. Really, really endearing.

And because he’s stupid and can’t pace himself, Steve had asked her out. The first day they met.

She had preened and said yes.

And for the first time since having met Nancy, he felt really hopeful about loving someone.

Tonight, they’re at a party. It’s Tommy’s, because of course it is.

She’s drunk, and he’s not exactly sober, but she’s further gone than him. And he’s not worried about anything right now, just looking at his girl, laughing and smiling, close to him.

It’s all just really great, how big she smiles at him, gorgeous and happy, and he loves her. Loves her like he wasn’t sure what it meant before he met her.

When they’re dancing, though, he spills a bit of his drink on her white dress. He expects her to be mad, it’s a red drink on her new white dress, and he bites his lip before he hears her laugh.

“You wanna come help me clean this up?” She says warmly, and maybe it’s because he’s tipsy, but dear lord, he loves the sound of his voice.

He kisses her cheek quickly before saying, “Of course, baby.”

She rolls her eyes at this, though it’s soft and kind, enough fondness it makes him kiss the junction of her neck and shoulder.

“You’re so touchy,” she laughs, but doesn’t move his arms, which are wrapped firmly around her waist as they walk to the bathroom to clean up the spill.

“Have you seen yourself? He says, looking at the both of them in the mirror, arms wrapped around her waist, “How could I not?”

She really does look gorgeous, the prettiest girl in the world. The dash of red on her lips, the shimmer of her dress, the way she looks at him like he’s the center of her world.

She laughs, then jumps up on the counter so he could clean the spill. Brat.

Comfortable quiet fills the small room for a moment, her idly humming inebriated and happy. She’s leaning into him, and she smells like the perfume he bought for her.

“Steve,” she says, and her voice is shaky, but not the crying kind, the reckless kind, “This is bullshit.”

And the whole world freezes.

The room is too small, the music seems faded and all the warm, soft happiness growing inside his chest like flowers seem like they’re just choking him.

And his mind goes fucking crazy, thinks about the last time he was in a bathroom with a girl he loved who’d told him that he was bullshit.

But this isn’t him and Nancy, this isn’t them, okay, Steve knows she loves him. She told him. She tells him all the time. He’s sure.

“What?”

“This,” she says, eyes fluttering,” All of it.”

And when she says this, he thinks back to the first time he told her he loved her. In his car, sitting in her drive way because they didn’t want the night to end. The way she lit up when he said it, like a flower blooming, slow and gorgeous. Like she was the lucky one. And the way she said it back, like an oath- He believed her.

It was just the truth. They were in love.

“You’re bullshit.”

She says it, but her voice is still warm, and this- she has to means something else. Not what Nancy had meant. Not when losing her was a whole different kind of loss.

But still, his head makes him picture what this might end like. Her, telling him he’s bullshit, that they’re not in love, how she never meant any of it. Her walking away and not accepting any apology he might give, and losing her. It’s all so goddamn vivid.

She was happy, though. Unless he’s a god awful boyfriend and can’t tell when the woman he loves is upset, he knows she was happy.

“I-I’m bullshit?”

“Everything is,” she says, after huffing in a breath, and wraps her arms around his neck, and Christ this is confusing, but as long as she’s going to let me be near, then he’d take it.

She looks at him in the eye, tips his chin up with her perfectly painted fingernail, and she’s just so lovely. Plucked out of heaven.

And losing her- they’re kids. Shit changes. She’s going to college, they might fight, break ups happen. But it’s the worst thing he can picture in the world right now. No more wrist kisses, no more shocked laughter when she finds him throwing rocks at her window after midnight. No more feeling like the best man in the world because she’d picked him.

“You love me, right?” he blurts out. Her brushes a hand against her cheek, a temptation he can’t resist.

Her nose crinkles, and she brings him closer with a delicate hand on the back of his neck.

“Always,” she says, louder and sure, so he knows she means it.

And he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, leans his head on her collarbone just to take a breath.

“Why’m I bullshit then?” He speaks into the skin of her neck. She smells like gardenias.

He thinks she might’ve sobered up a little, because she gathers his face in her hands, and looks him in the eye.

“The King…King Steve thing,” she says, “Bullshit. You’re so much more than that.”

And yeah, he knew that. Knew King Steve wasn’t who he was, he’s more than that. But the whole thing seems ridiculous, thinking his girlfriend was about to tear his heart out, when she was really being sweet.

His life is so fucking weird.

“If I’m not King Steve,” he says, picking his head up to look at her, and placing a hand on her face. She’s so close, “Then what am I?”

She laughs then, that gorgeous sound echoing through the tiny space, her had thrown back a bit.

“Well, you’re my Prince.”

He leans in closer.

“Is that so?”

When he kisses her, her smile tastes like cherry chapstick and love.

(When she wakes up the next morning, after he’s walked the both of them back to his place, and fell asleep in his bed within minutes, she asks him about it.

She asks him about when she’s still in his arms, morning sunlight drenching her in hold, makeup smudged from the night before. She still looks perfect.

“Why did you ask that?”

There’s a kiss before he replies.

“Ask what?”

“You know.”

“I knew what I wanted your answer to be,” he says, “You got me all sappy and shit. Got me listening the Carpenters like an idiot.”

“I’m on the top of the woooooorld,” she sings softly, a shit-eating grin on her face, and he’s so fucked because it’s still cute.

“I love you,” she says, after a beat. She gets it, what he means, why he reacted the way he did.

“I love you more.” he says, and when she smiles into his neck, he’s on the top of the world.)

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[solynaceawrites]

Promise Me Forever [3]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 3/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic​ Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

The rest of the day passes with more ease than Lir could have hoped for. Dante gets her set up on the computer, a marvel of technology she never truly got to use before, creating an account for her and walking her through how to use the search engine, where to find the games that were pre-installed. The fact that she has access to solitaire, even if it's digital, delights her, and she wastes a few hours playing through it. Then she finds a news site and reads through the articles on the first page; a lady, her mother said, should know what is going on in the world in order to make conversation with her husband.

Dante, for his part, doesn't seem to do as much work as she'd thought. There are a few phone calls that he answers tersely, but none that make him move from behind the desk, where he dozes. Lir tries not to look too closely at the magazine over his face. The woman on the cover is far more curvaceous than she could ever be, and she wonders, more than once, if that's the sort of thing he prefers.

She's just gotten up to see what she can make them for dinner when the door to the shop opens. A young man enters, and the similarities between him and Dante are striking enough that Lir can only stare as he crosses the room towards her. "Is this her?" he asks.

Dante rocks up. "Nero? The hell are you doing here?"

"Hey, you're the one who called me," Nero retorts. "You scared Kyrie half to death with that warning of yours, so I wanted to come and see for myself what the fuss was about." His piercing gaze shifts back to Lir. "She doesn't seem so dangerous."

"Dante?" Lir's eyes go wide as he strides over, and the way he crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at her gives her deja vu. 

The boy narrows his eyes as he scowls. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Okay, lay off," Dante calls over.

She shrinks back towards the wall as he rolls his neck. "Start talking, lady, or—"

"Hey!" They both turn to see Dante leaning forward in his chair, a scowl on his face. "I said lay off."

"No, you said there was a woman here who was trying to kill you." The young man flings out his arm as he turns and scoffs. "I'm here to help!"

"Some help," Dante laughs. "You are about twelve hours too late."

"Yeah, well I spent all night behind a dumpster looking for a pack of demonic squirrels." He looks around with a frown. "Did you clean?"

"No." Dante nods to her. "She did. Her name, by the way, is Lir, and she's not going to kill anyone as far as I know. Though I might if you don't back up."

It doesn't sound entirely genuine, but Nero does take a few steps away, though he continues to eye her distrustfully. "Where'd she come from?"

"Somewhere up north."

"Why's she here?"

Dante glances at her as he says, "Personal business."

Nero points at him, obviously exasperated. "Listen, you. Kyrie was in tears when I got home, she was so worried about you. If you got her that fuckin' worked up over nothing, I'm gonna come over there and shove my fist up your—"

"Nero? Was that your name?" Lir interrupts, quickly standing.

Her heart is pounding when the young man turns and frowns at her. But if he is threatening Dante, she should help somehow, so she holds out her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lir."

He regards her suspiciously before shaking her hand. "Yeah, I'm Nero. Dante's a friend of mine." He puts his hands on his hips, and again the similarity between the two is striking. "So what's your personal business?"

"I'm here to marry Dante."

Before she can continue, Nero bursts out laughing, leaning over to brace himself on his knees to keep from falling over. "Dante! Oh my fuck, you ordered a bride? Are you insane?" He leans back with another round of laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. "Damn man, if you were that desperate I could have set you up with one of Kyrie's friends or something."

"I didn't order her," Dante sighs. "She's . . . It's sort of an arranged marriage thing."

"Wait, what?" Nero looks at her, and she nods. "Shit. Well, I feel sorry for you, Lir. This guy might be one of the best in the business, but he's never had any luck with the ladies."

"So I've heard." She glances between them again, noting the light hair, the strong jaw, the similar stance. "How do you two know each other again?"

"We met in Fortuna," Dante says. "I was on a job to deal with a cult, Nero worked for said cult. Wound up going against them when he realized what they had planned, but it's not like he knew they were bastards."

Nero gives a shrug. "I thought he was evil at first. Tried to kill him a couple of times."

"Never came close to it," Dante interjects, and Nero flips him off.

"Oh, I see." Lir studies them closely. "It's only . . . Well, you look so similar that I thought you might be related."

Nero scoffs loudly as Dante leans against his desk. "This guy? Yeah I don't think so." He chuckles and shakes his head. "I'd put a fucking bullet in my head if—"

"Okay, watch the language." Lir swallows her chuckle as Nero scowls at him defiantly. "You see? Everything is fine. You should head home."

"Yeah." But he's looking at her now, not Dante. "If you ever need to get away from this jackass for a while, give me a call. Kyrie would love the company. Hope you don't mind kids, though. We've got a couple. She runs an orphanage." There's more than a hint of pride in his voice, and it makes her smile.

"I'd love to visit, as long as Dante doesn't mind."

It's the right response by what she's been taught, but the way the two men glance at each other makes her feel that maybe it was the wrong thing to say. "Right," Nero says. "Well, be seeing you."

"Tell Kyrie I'm sorry for scarin' her," Dante calls after him. The door closes, and he sighs and settles back into his chair. "Kid's a pain," he says to Lir, "but his heart's in the right place."

"He's, um . . . interesting." She glances at Dante, who has gone back to his magazine. "You met him in Fortuna?"

"Yup."

Dante turns the page as she settles on the couch, frowning. "I read about Fortuna. That was last year, right? They had a cult dedicated to Sparda, your father."

"Yup."

She leans forward, brows raised expectantly, and when Dante doesn't look up she sighs loudly. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Don't you think it's strange that there is a city founded on the demon Sparda, and a boy there exactly like you?" Dante looks up finally, but she rambles on, "They had many of his artifacts, right? Maybe Sparda isn't dead. He could have been living there, and there might be evidence there that proves what I've been saying. Maybe we can find him! And if we find him, then maybe . . ." She looks at him with wide eyes, the wheels turning in her head with the possibilities. "Perhaps you're not the son of Sparda I'm looking for."

His expression goes so cold that she instinctively steps back. It's as though all the progress she'd made in the last twenty-four hours has disappeared, leaving them back in the mire of mistrust they'd started in. "He's been dead for almost forty years," Dante tells her, "and the only sons he had were yours truly and Vergil, who's been dead for twenty."

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. Lir knows that she's supposed to soothe him somehow, but, because she is the cause of his ire, she has no idea what to do. "I only meant that maybe you would be free from dealing with me. I wasn't trying to—"

"And Nero," Dante continues, speaking sharply over her, "has been through enough shit in his life without you going and causing more of it for him because you think you have to bed one of Sparda's bloodline to be worth something."

Tears rise very suddenly, humiliation flooding through her. "I'm sorry," she whispers, but Dante has already returned to his magazine as if nothing had happened.

She blinks rapidly, then turns and moves quickly through the building, hurrying up the stairs and to her room. Lir keeps herself from slamming the door, closing it firmly and moving to sit heavily on the bed, breathing slowly in and out to keep herself from crying.

After several minutes, she wipes her eyes and smooths her hands down her shirt. "I'll make it up to him," she says out loud, standing on shaky legs. Then Lir heads to the bathroom, getting to work scrubbing it from top to bottom, pouring her mixed up emotions into making the marble sparkle.

She is elbow deep in some unpacked boxes in his bedroom when Dante comes to find her. "Hey, Lir, about what I said—"

Lir looks up to see him looking around the room with a grin. "Hey, it looks great in here!"

She opens her mouth to respond before closing it, not sure what she should say to him, or if it even matters that she replies. He moves over and kneels next to her, reaching into the box to pull out a baseball mitt. "Huh," he mumbles, then sets it back inside. "Find anything interesting?"

"I've only just started," she says quietly.

"Right." His fingers drum on his thigh. "I'm sorry. I know I was a bastard to you, and you didn't deserve that. But Lir, you . . . I mean, do you want to just marry me? Is that it for you?"

Lir freezes. The question is one she has never heard before, and she realizes she has never even considered it before. "It's hard for me to answer that," she replies slowly. "If I don't marry you, then what am I going to do?"

Dante shrugs. "You were talking about getting a job. You could do that. What do you want to do?"

She looks away, heat rising up her neck and burning her ears. The fact that she doesn't have an answer is humiliating, and she turns back to the box so Dante can't see her blush. "I'll have to think about that," she murmurs.

"Hey, why don't you give that a rest for a bit?" Lir glances out the side of her eye to see him tilting to the side, trying to catch her attention. "I'll take you out to eat. There's a good diner nearby."

"That's okay." She stands and clears her throat, trying to look composed. "I can make something, it's not a problem."

"Nah. You've done a ton already. Unless . . ." Lir looks up to see him giving her a teasing smile. "You don't want to go to dinner with me."

"I don't understand." He cocks his head, reminding her of the large hound who'd slept in the gardens and kept the foxes away from the hens. "Doing something like that is considered a date, is it not? A romantic gesture? Why would you ask me to go with you if you have no interest in me?"

Dante pauses, his brows furrowed. "It can be, I guess. But it's also a friendly thing. Or you can think of it as a reward. Shop looks better than it has in years, you've made two of the best meals I've ever had. Why wouldn't I want to pay you back?"

"Taking care of you is its own reward," she replies.

"Lir . . ."

"No, I mean it!" She tucks her hair behind her ear. "You seemed happy, and that was nice. I liked making you happy. I just keep . . . messing that up, and I'm sorry."

Dante gives her a smile, then nudges her with his elbow. "Go clean up. Meet you at the front door in five."

He turns and heads into the washroom, his shouts over how clean it is making her giggle. Lir heads back to her room, using the guest bath to wash her face and hands before running a comb through her hair and changing her shirt into a short-sleeved blouse. After a brief debate she dusts some mascara on her eyelashes and applies a bit of lip balm before heading downstairs to meet him exactly five minutes later.

The sight of him renders her speechless. Breathless, too, if she feels like being a bit more cliche, but he looks so good and it's the first time she's really taken him in as a whole since she arrived. The dark denim of his trousers clings to his thick thighs and firm backside almost like a second skin, just loose enough to avoid being considered indecent, and she quickly lifts her eyes up to his chest when she notices the hinted bulge between his legs. But that's no better for her, as the button-down he's wearing shows off his broad shoulders and strong arms, and his hair is loosely gathered at the nape of his neck, highlighting his soft lips and straight nose.

Dante is, in a word, devastating. 

Her skin feels too tight and too hot when he grins at her. "You look nice," he says.

"Do I?"

Her voice comes out like a weird half-whisper, and he nods. "Yup. Like a normal person."

That isn't what she had expected, but he is sliding on his leather coat and pressing his hand to her back, leading her to the door. "Okay if we walk? It's only two blocks."

"Yeah, it's fine." Dante doesn't offer his arm and she doesn't ask, so they stroll together side by side. Lir takes the chance to look around, trying to familiarize herself with the buildings and streets. Everything seems so on top of everything else, and the paved sidewalks offer little greenery as she is used to seeing, but Lir smiles to herself as she takes it all in. The slower rural life never seemed to really suit her, and she enjoys the energy from the city around them as she follows Dante to the diner.

"You ever been to one of these?" he asks, breaking her from her thoughts. Lir shakes her head, and the smile that lights up his face only makes him more handsome. Her mouth goes dry as she studies his lips, wondering if they're anywhere near as supple as they look, how they'd feel on hers, on her throat, at her breast. "You'll love it. A waitress brings you a menu, and you pick what you want to eat. Cheap, delicious, and sure to fill you up."

Like you probably would, she almost says, but merely nods, blushing furiously. "It sounds strange," she says. "Are the waitresses paid?"

"Yeah, but not a lot. But they get tips." He opens the door for them and leads them to a booth, taking opposite sides. It is only half filled, and Lir looks around curiously, watching the waitresses move between the tables. She can see into the kitchen in the back over the counter, and the place is filled with a rich mixture of delicious smells.

A woman comes over and hands them two large menus. "Look at you! Brought a girl this time, hm?" She winks at Dante who smiles back, and the waitress pinches his cheek. "Cutie. Want your usual?"

"You know it." He leans against the seat, slinging his arm over the top of it. "Cindy, this is Lir. She's staying with me for a few days. Lir, this is Cindy. I told you about her yesterday."

Lir nods, murmuring a polite greeting. The waitress, Cindy, is tall, with an hourglass figure that makes her a bit self-conscious. Of course all the women he knows would be gorgeous, she thinks, and the fact that she'd dressed up a bit makes her feel ridiculous now. "Hey, darling," Cindy greets her. "You need a minute to look over the menu?"

"Please," she replies softly.

"Sure thing! I'll get you some water. Just give me a shout whenever you're ready!" 

Cindy heads behind the counter and Lir, her appetite gone, studies the menu, looking for something light she can pick at so as to not offend Dante. Is this what it is to be jealous? Why is it bothering her now, and not before? She's debating between a Caesar and a garden salad when Dante clears his throat. "You alright?"

"Yes."

She hears him shift. "You sure?"

"Please," she whispers. "Please, don't ask me. I don't want to make a fool of myself."

"Uh . . . okay. What are you thinking?"

That this was a mistake, she thinks, but Lir clears her throat. "A salad."

"No way. Get a cheeseburger. They are the best here."

Lir glances over the top of the menu. His expression is charming, and she closes the menu and sets it down. "Okay. Cheeseburger it is."

He smiles at her a bit warily. Is he afraid that she's going to burst into tears in the middle of the diner? Cindy returns, and they order, and when their food arrives Lir can only stare, half in awe and half in horror, at the monstrous burger, mountain of fries, and giant sundae placed in front of Dante. He sets in on it, wolfing it down as she carefully works through her own plate; it's greasier than anything she's ever eaten before, cheese dripping from the patty, and the fries are crisp and salted.

It's delicious.

Dante pays when they've finished, stretching his arms over his head with a hearty belch that has her side-eyeing him. Then, with a playful farewell to Cindy and a hefty tip, he offers Lir his hand and helps her up, letting her go as they leave the diner. Being next to him now feels comfortable, if still uncertain, and they say very little on the walk back towards the Devil May Cry.

"I gotta ask you something," Dante says.

She looks up curiously. "Of course."

"You seemed, uh . . ." He rubs the back of his neck. "I don't know how to put this. Like you've never seen a burger before? I know you are from the boonies or whatever, but . . ." He gives her a side eye that has her blushing. "I mean you were impressed with that old computer in the shop and that thing is almost as old as I am!"

Despite the embarrassment from his assessment, Lir giggles. "I grew up . . . I guess sheltered is the right word. My family is part of a group that heads our community, and as the direct descendants of Ler, there was even more pressure, all eyes watching. As a daughter of the family, I was expected to wait for the son of Sparda." She chuckles at the look he gives her. "I know, it seems strange, doesn't it?"

Dante shrugs. "Doesn't sound too off from the Order in Fortuna. It's just odd to hear when people treat Sparda like he was some big deal."

Lir looks at him in shock. "Sparda is a big deal! He delivered humanity from the demons! And now you carry on his work."

She smiles at him, but he looks unconvinced. "You're starting to remind me of Vergil."

"Vergil?" Lir struggles to recall where she's heard the name before. "That was your brother's name, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. He was obsessed with gaining our father's power and got a lot of people killed doin' it. Then he wound up serving Mundus until . . . Well, there probably wasn't much of him left by then." 

"I'm sorry," she murmurs.

Lir places a hand on his arm, rubbing it gently, and Dante shrugs. "Long time ago," he says. "It's just still funny to me to hear people making a big deal about Sparda. To me he was just . . . my dad, I guess."

She thinks of her own father, his warm smile and big bear hugs, the little gifts he would give them of candy and trinkets, the way he would sing loudly when he indulged too much and laugh at her mother's tutting. Could it be possible that the great knight Sparda, deliverer of humanity and savior of the world, drank too much and embarrassed his wife with his singing?

"Is there anything you want to do?" Dante asks, pulling her from her thoughts. "While you're staying in the city, I mean. Something you want to do tomorrow?"

"Could we . . ." Hesitating, she comes to a stop, and he turns after a few steps to give her a curious look. "Could we go to the aquarium? I read online that there's one not far from your home, and I . . . I'm sorry, it's a silly request."

Dante makes a noise that might be a cough. "Nah, nah, it's . . . Nothing wrong with wanting to see it. Sure. We can go."

"Really?" Lir claps her hands excitedly, then reaches out to take his arm. "I've always wanted to see one! I've only seen pictures."

Dante barks out a laugh as they cross the street, but he doesn't comment on Lir holding onto his arm. "You lived by the water and yet never saw a fish?"

"I've seen fish. But not ocean creatures." She sighs and puts her head on his arm, thinking to herself as they walk. "Even if I do go back home, it'll be worth it to see some jellyfish."

"Would all that really happen to you?" he asks, his tone serious. "Taking your tongue or whatever?"

Lir straightens, suddenly aware of how close they are. She lets go of his arm but he moves closer, so they walk elbow to elbow. "I don't know, honestly," she says, laughing nervously. "I'm the first one to meet a son of Sparda. Not really a precedent."

"I see." He turns them down a corner, and then stops, leaving her to turn curiously. "What I don't see is where we are."

Lir looks around, frowning. "We're lost?"

"Not exactly. I thought we'd take the long way, but . . . oh wait! There's Front Street. Come on."

Dante drapes an arm over her shoulders, tucking her neatly to his side. The warmth of him makes her flush, as does the intimate nature of the act, but the blooming hope that maybe this means good things for them is crushed when he leans down to whisper into her hair, "On my mark, find a place to hide yourself. Something's been followin' us for the last couple of blocks, and it's gonna get messy."

"Demons?" 

"Probably," he agrees. He gives her a squeeze before releasing her, pushing her forward with a hand at her back. "Go." 

Lir takes two steps forward. Then she feels it, something dark and dangerous that pulls on her lungs and stomach before dousing her like a bucket of cold water. She turns, afraid to look but unable to stop, and watches as Dante reaches under his coat and pulls two revolvers out. Beyond him, in the shadows, emerges three creatures the likes of which she has never seen. They look like bugs: huge, overgrown bumblebees, with stingers on the end of their lumpy bodies and claws that reach outward.

"Go screw off," Dante says.

The click as he pulls the hammer makes Lir jump. Run! she yells at herself, but before she can gunfire erupts. The flash from the barrel is bright on the dark street, the lampposts somehow out and bathing them in darkness. One of the creatures screams as it is hit, another advancing with a swipe that Dante ducks and avoids easily.

She stands frozen as she watches him fight, firing off shots that connect each time and leave the demons howling and spraying dark blood. It is a horrible sight, something out of a nightmare, but Dante seems almost unbothered. He seems to barely break a sweat as he delivers a kick to one, using the lid of a trash can to smash into another, and by the time he has eliminated all three, Lir's heart is pounding in excitement.

Dante flips the back of his coat up with a chuckle, replacing the guns before turning around. He catches sight of her gaping and frowns deeply. "Didn't I tell you to hide?" 

"You . . ." Her voice is too strangled to work properly, but there's so much she wants to say in that moment. Thank you for protecting me, you really are the son of Sparda, where did you learn to fight, did you recognize them, the list expands with every second that crawls by until, fed up with her own inability to speak, Lir darts forward and flings her arms around his waist, sending him stumbling a step.

He gives a curse as he catches her. Lir takes a few steadying breaths as the adrenaline pulses in her veins. "You were amazing," she breathes, looking up at his startled expression. "The way you handled them so easily! Your skill is incredible!"

"What? Nah." Dante eases her back, but Lir keeps hold of his jacket as he rubs his cheek sheepishly. "They were nothing."

"No! No, you were . . ." Her voice fades away as she looks at him almost dreamily. "Just like the great knight Sparda. You are a hope for humanity."

He opens his mouth. Closes it. It looks, to her, as though he is trying to figure out what to say, and her suspicions are confirmed when he clears his throat. "Look. I know you were raised to . . . Well, I don't know that you worshipped him, but to at least respect him, but you gotta . . . Can you relax with the hope for humanity stuff?"

"Oh." She lets her hands fall away. "Of course. I'm sorry, I guess I didn't realize that it was making you uncomfortable. I'll refrain from it from now on."

"I mean, this is the guy who I watched nearly set a house on fire trying to make burgers, y'know? He was never a hero to me." He scratches the back of his neck. "Just . . . strange. That's all."

Lir nods, and they stand there for a moment, not making eye contact. Finally she says, "You were very good though. Thank you for doing that."

"Yeah. It's my job, right?" Dante huffs out an awkward laugh before jerking his chin. "Come on, we're only a couple of blocks from home."

Home? Lir doesn't comment as she follows him, but she doesn't take his arm again either. They don't speak again until they are back at the Devil May Cry, and the two once again stand awkwardly in the foyer, Lir's eyes down as she watches him shuffle his feet.

It's Dante who breaks the silence with a sigh. "I keep saying the wrong things, huh?"

"What?" Her gaze snaps to his face.

"I keep forgetting that people out there only know about the legend. Makes sense that you'd say those things about him. I only meant . . ." Dante tilts his head back. "Ah, hell, I'm no good at this."

"Will you tell me about him?" Lir asks. "What he was really like?"

"Maybe tomorrow," Dante says. "It's getting late."

Lir nods, feeling more than a little disappointed. "You're right."

"We should be hearing from Lady tomorrow," he offers.

It should be good news, but it feels heavy. The sooner Lady confirms her story, the sooner Lir will have to move on. "Yeah," she replies. "I'll head upstairs then."

Dante doesn't say anything, so she turns and moves to the steps. "Goodnight," he calls to her when she reaches the bottom.

Lir turns around hopefully, but he's at his desk, back turned as he looks through the mail. "Goodnight," she murmurs back before heading up the steps.

[msjr0119]

Hold On

Epilogue

Nobody got injured at the Homecoming ball, they all get separated into different safe houses- for safety.

Riley and Drake had confirmed that they had feelings for each other, however Drake believed Riley should be with Liam. Heartbroken, she moves back to New York. Only keeping in touch with Hana, Maxwell and Olivia.

Riley meets lawyer, Nate Cooper and begins a relationship with him. In Cordonia, Drake begins to court Kiara.

Nine months after Riley had left Cordonia- there is a reunion, but not the reunion the friends had hoped for.

*Characters belong to Pixelberry*

If you are under 18 please do not read this series. If you do, you are consenting that you are over the age.

Series warnings: Suicide, domestic abuse, swearing, stabbing, smut 🍋. If any of these triggers affect you do not read!

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs

I am so sorry it’s taken me forever to post this- I kind of got distracted 😜... For a Drake Stan, I hope the Liam stans can reassure me that I’ve done this series justice. Originally it was going to be a Driley series but somehow just swayed to Riam instead 🤣... It’s short but simple 😊Thank you to everyone who has read the series 😘

******

Ayah Rhys- our little miracle, she is beautiful, the true definition of Princess.

Liam has fallen asleep on the chair cradling her- he is such a doting father already. I know our country is eager to meet her, but we need this time to adjust to our new little family. I never thought I’d get a second chance at happiness, I suppose what they say is accurate ‘things come to those who wait.’ I’m so glad that I survived my suicide attempt- grateful for those people who saved me. Grateful for everything Leo and my friends have done me. Grateful that Liam could learn to love me again. He is not only a king, he is; my husband, the father to our daughter, but he is also my saviour. My family is complete, ‘hold on’- I did that and I have found my fairytale ending.

Taking the opportunity to have a shower, before the princess needed feeding- Riley looked at her body. The stretch marks appearing in front of her- wondering if they would disappear. Wondering if Liam would still find her attractive if not. If not they were a permanent positive scar- a scar that brought their baby into the world. A scar full of love. Returning to the room, she saw Liam place Ayah gently, in the cot.

“You look refreshed. And beautiful my Queen.” Placing a passionate kiss on her lips, he still couldn’t believe that he had a family- one that he had always wished for.

“Are you ready for the stampede to enter the room? Maxwell keeps texting me, eager to meet her. Get it over and done with then we can enjoy our babymoon?” Liam laughed, he wanted to keep his daughter all to himself and Riley- but as she said the sooner they all meet her the quicker they would leave- or so he thought.

“Ayah, my mini blossom. Uncle max loves you already my little doll.”

“Max stop suffocating her!” Panic ran through the new moms veins.

“Sorry blossom, but she is just so adorable. I can’t stop kissing her. She’s going to break some hearts.” The proud uncle stared at her, she had hold of his finger- which filled his heart with joy.

“Beaumont pass her here.”

“Liv? Are you feeling okay? You want a hold of a baby?” Riley said sarcastically, Duchess Olivia wasn’t the type to be maternal, so for her to ask to hold the baby shocked everyone.

“Riley, I will hold her at a distance then pass her over to someone else.” As Olivia held her, the group noticed a small smile creep on her face.

“Is that a smile I see?”

“No Hana! I’m a Nevrakis we don’t smile.”

Riley and Liam looked at each other, laughing- she was in denial. A while later, Drake was holding Ayah- Liam knew it would be tough on him after what had happened. He encouraged Riley to talk to him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, she’s beautiful Ri. Congratulations.”

“She’s going to love her Uncle Drake and Aunt Hana.”

“Do you ever wonder what our child would have looked like? I love Hana, but that thought still ponders.”

“I think about it every day. I’ll never forget about him or her. I’ll always love you Drake.”

“I’ll always love you too. But we would have never worked would we?” He winked at her.

“No, you’re too grumpy.” She nudged his shoulder. “And you’re too bossy- Queen bossypants.”

“Why isn’t Hana drinking the alcohol that Max has snuck in by the way? Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“We didn’t want to rain on your parade. But yes, myself and Hana are expecting a child.”

“I’m so happy for you both.” They both hugged each other, happy that they had both been able to move on and start new chapters in their lives.

*****

It had been a month since Riley had given birth. Today was the day for the big Cathedral wedding. The day that the whole of Cordonia had been waiting for. With the help from Maxwell, Riley had been exercising and doing yoga- she soon lost the excess baby fat. Ana De Luca had sent her a designer wedding dress from her collection and was grateful that the Queen had accepted the gift.

Walking down the aisle with Bertrand and Maxwell again, they gave her away to her husband.

“It’s not every day you get to marry the love of your life again.” Liam held her tight, baby blues focusing on each other- both sparkling.

“I could say the same. But this time we have Ayah celebrating with us.”

“By the power vested in me by the kingdom of Cordonia, I now pronounce you Husband and Wife again. The King and Queen Of Cordonia. May this blessed union be sealed with a kiss.”

Liam cupped Riley’s cheeks, placing a soft kiss on her lips- hearing the cheers and euphoric atmosphere encouraged Liam to deepen it into a more passionate kiss, as he did on their first wedding. It was deja vu. Exiting the cathedral, the three of them spent some time, talking to the people of Cordonia who all congratulated them. The country as a whole were thrilled to finally meet their King, Queen and Princess as a family.

*****

Six months since the cathedral wedding, Riley and Liam settled into parent hood - Riley was still on maternity leave, but had a duty to complete today. Settling into being Queen, she had impressed everyone - especially Liam who was in awe of his wife.

“Are you ready? Hana and Drake have collected Ayah.”

Looking at herself in the mirror, she took a deep breath. Straightening out her clothes she was ready to do her first individual speech to her country.

“As long as I have your love, and your support I’ll always be ready.”

Walking outside the palace, they entered the SUV which escorted them to the capitol. There was a podium outside the building which Riley was officially opening. Nerves started to kick in, but she knew what she was doing would help many people.

“Good morning, I am thrilled to see so many of you have attended. Before I was Queen, I was just a New York waitress known as Riley Brooks. During my time in Cordonia I fell in love with the country immediately and I am so proud of everyone here, how we all unite to make it a better country. I am here today to tell you a story about how I overcame fear I once contained before realising how much love and support I had.” Looking at Liam and her friends for reassurance, they all encouraged her to continue.

“I went through a hard time in my life, I believed I couldn’t live anymore. I believed I had no one supporting me. This is hard to admit and I hope that none of you will think badly of me. I went down a dark path in my life; full of sadness, regret, lack of hope. Many people would accuse me of attention seeking- but depression isn’t anything to be afraid of admitting. Nor do I want anyone to feel ashamed for having any kind of mental illness or ashamed for any abuse that they may be suffering from. These things are not a choice, and often they are treatable. We know that removing the stigma opens the doors to treatment as well as prevention. I look out at this crowd and I don’t see a bunch of numbers – I see a gathering of individuals who are willing to work together to ease the suffering of many – uniting together as I mentioned before. I thank you for your courage and your kindness. If anyone in my country feels that they need to talk or just gain some support, I am opening this building. I will often visit on a regular basis- providing my own insight and support for my people. In closing, I would like to offer you these words. May we all be happy. May we all know peace. May we all be free from suffering. Thank you for your time.” Cutting the ribbon, she was praised by everyone. Entering the building she mingled with people, whilst introducing her daughter.

Liam came behind her, placing his arms around her waist, and snuggling into her neck.

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered, before taking Ayah into his own arms.

“I couldn’t have done it without you my king.”

“I love you, I always have and I always will.”

“And we all love you too.” Liam pulled her into his embrace whilst holding Ayah. Bending down to Riley’s stomach, both he and Ayah kissed her stomach. Last week they found out that they were unexpectedly expecting their second child.

My life is complete. I thought I’d lost you. Hold on, I kept thinking when you was in hospital. You held on, you survived. You came back into my life. You are my wife, my Queen, and my children’s mother. You are that woman who transformed my imperfections into perfections, just by the touch of your love. I don’t need the whole world to love me, as long as I have you, Ayah and bean I am a happy man - Who’s heart is filled with unconditional love.

[awkwardnessandbaseball]

This might, honestly, be one of my favorite chapters of this story. It’s very simple and (imho) very sweet :)

Once again, so many thanks to: @cspupstravaganza, @sherlockianwhovian, and @lassluna

Tag list: @quirkykayleetam, @squidvisious, @carpedzem, @kmomof4, @revanmeetra87, @capnjay21 (Message me to be added!)

AO3 if that’s your jam: Prologue | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7

I’d Pick You (and Your Little Dog, Too)

A Captain Swan Pupstravaganza Story

Summary: According to everyone in the known universe, Emma Nolan’s dog is supposed to lead her to her soulmate. But she’s not even sure if she wants that. Soulmates are pretty idealistic, don’t you think?

Chapter Five:

Six Months Later.

It shouldn’t be a surprise when David brings up the topic of his moving out when they meet for lunch, just the two of them. Emma should have seen the conversation coming, really, but she’s been so caught up in her own romance, in having someone to share her innermost thoughts with, in Rascal having a playmate besides Princess… that she’s completely caught off guard.

“Mary Margaret and I are going to move in together,” David tells her, spaghetti sauce lingering in the corners of his lips. Emma opens her mouth to interrupt, but he keeps going before she can. “And we were thinking that maybe we could just… keep doing what we’re doing. I’ll move into the loft, and Killian could move in with you--”

“I’m sorry, what?” Emma nearly yells, but then lowers her voice, remembering that they’re at Granny’s, in the middle of the Saturday lunch rush, in a town full of gossips. “You moving in with Mary Margaret… sucks, if I can be selfish for a second, but... it makes sense. But why would you think Killian and I would move in together?”

David looks at her like she’s grown an extra head.

“Because he spends literally every single night at the apartment with you?” David offers, but Emma sits silently, staring daggers at him, so he continues. “Emma, you spend nearly every waking moment with him. You’re soulmates. It just… makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Emma thinks about it. She tries to remember the last time she slept alone, one side of her bed cold, with only Rascal at her feet instead of the extra weight of a second dog. Or the last time she woke up to the smell of her brother’s burnt coffee (or worse, nothing at all) instead of the delicious pancakes Killian’s taken to cooking for her.

It had happened so naturally that Emma didn’t even notice. One night, she was sleeping alone in her too-large bed, her brother snoring away in the bedroom down the hall, and the next, David was away at Mary Margaret’s and Killian had taken up residence against Emma’s side.

And then it just sort of stayed like that.

More often than not, they fall asleep on the couch, watching movies and old TV shows, Rascal and Procella curled up together in the armchair. Usually, they wake up together and the four of them trudge to the bedroom and resume their snuggling in a much more comfortable way. Occasionally, when Emma’s had a long day or hasn’t been sleeping well, she’ll fall asleep on the couch and wake up in her bed, with no recollection of getting there. Killian blushes whenever she asks him if he’s carried her down the hall, telling her that she just must not remember waking up.

The man carries her to bed.

All told, dating Killian is simple. There’s no grand gestures, which tend to make Emma self-conscious, and there’s no begging for sex, which Neal had done constantly. It’s exactly like it was when they were meeting for lunch every week, except that they’re together almost all the time.

Plus she gets to see a lot more of that chest hair.

It’s actually kind of gross - the sickeningly sweet relationship, not the chest hair - and Emma is constantly surprised at how comfortable she is with it. Must be a soulmate thing.

But still. Moving in together? It just seems so fast.

“I don’t want to scare you, Emma, but you’ve got a really wistful look on your face.” David is smirking now, and Emma knows he’s right, really. That swapping out names on a lease won’t change anything, that they’ve already been practically living together for six months.

At that exact moment, just as she’s weighing her options, debating the fear she’s feeling versus the idea of something more permanent, Killian and Mary Margaret walk in the door of the diner.

Any stress Emma feels completely dissipates when her eyes meet Killian’s, and she knows she’s lost the battle. And she can’t even be that upset about it.

“We’re not here to interrupt,” Mary Margaret chirps, all heart-eyes as she looks at David. “We’re starting our own Saturday tradition, but it also involves Granny’s. So… we’re just taking it to go.” She leans down to give David a chaste kiss, and then looks at him meaningfully. “We’ll let you get back to it.”

Emma watches the two of them, and imagines the conversation they must have had that led them here. Or, more likely, conversations. Plural. Because Emma knows her brother, knows that he knows all of her insecurities and her fears and she’s sure that it would have taken ages for him to work up the courage to talk to her about moving out.

Especially after last time.

But, Emma rationalizes, this time is different. For one, Mary Margaret is clearly David’s soulmate. There’s a reason they’re together all the time, a reason they practically live together. Moving in together isn’t just the logical next step in their relationship: it’s literally the only next step. Emma’s seen David looking at rings online during their many hours of downtime at work. She’s not stupid.

Plus, she thinks to herself, I’m not exactly alone, am I? She looks up at Killian again. At this man who chose to get to know her agonizingly slowly despite knowing full well that they were meant to be. Who’s never pushed her or made her uncomfortable.

Her brother is right.

After an uncomfortable amount of silence and meaningful looks on both sides of the table, Emma rolls her eyes and grabs the end of Killian’s jacket sleeve. He settles in beside her, casually throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“You can join us, Mary Margaret. We’ve already talked,” Emma says.

“We have?” David asks, eyeing his sister carefully.

“Yeah, we have.” She smiles and David seems to catch her meaning because he smiles back, crinkles forming in the corner of his eyes.

************

As Emma climbs into her brother’s truck, she’s struck with the strangest sense of deja vu. She turns around, sees the piles of furniture and boxes tied up in the truck bed, and she realizes that she’s done this before.

She knows, obviously, that her brother moved out before. She’d helped him move. But those memories are so surrounded by darkness, loneliness, and downright sadness that she’s shoved them out of her mind until right this moment. But this time, she feels a little hopeful.

Just a little.

“Ready?” David asks as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” Emma says, and it’s not a lie.

When they arrive at the loft, Mary Margaret and Killian are waiting outside. Just the sight of him makes Emma smile, which then makes her cringe.

Sickeningly sweet, she thinks to herself. But she can’t bring herself to be upset at the simple happiness she’s feeling. She surprises him -- and herself -- by wrapping her arms around his neck when she steps out of the truck.

“Hi,” she says, followed by a soft kiss on his mouth.

“Well hello, love.” He’s smiling. She smiles back.

“Uh, are we moving today or are we all just making out on the front lawn?” David asks, his arms folded across his chest, but there’s no anger on his face. Just a small smirk in the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry, Dad,” Emma groans, separating herself from Killian and grabbing a box out of the truck bed.

When it’s all over, and David’s moved into the loft, and Killian’s moved into the apartment, Emma collapses on the couch. Rascal hops up beside her and situates himself with his head in her lap.

“Tired?” Killian asks her.

“Are you not?” Emma knows he must be. Her muscles are screaming, her eyes closing of their own accord.

“Oh, certainly. But I’d hoped we could celebrate.” He pulls out a bottle of wine from behind his back.

“Celebrate what?” Emma snorts. “You know we’ve been doing this for six months now, it’s just that now your stuff is in my closet instead of all the way back at home. You can actually get dressed in fresh clothes in the morning.”

“And that’s not cause for a celebratory glass of wine?” Killian asks, putting the bottle down and walking back to the kitchen to get two glasses.

“One glass, Jones.” She holds up a finger to emphasise her point. “And then you can carry me to bed like the gentleman you are.”

“Oh, I think I can handle that.”

It turns out living together is exactly like practically living together, in almost every conceivable way. Emma has to make room in her closet, but they’ve got a spare room now, so she just moves her shorts and her summer dresses into David’s old closet and leaves her thick coats and heaviest shirts in her own room until the winter chill finally subsides.

There are still pancakes every morning, and most nights they still fall asleep on the couch for a few hours before slowly migrating to their bed.

Their bed.

It’s all very domestic, and Emma slowly stops waiting for the other shoe to drop. She stops waiting for the morning she’ll wake up and there won’t be a handsome Englishman waiting for her, stops hesitating before she opens up the door for fear that his stuff will all be gone.

She stops being afraid.

[exit-path]

DO NOT READ THIS POST.

Below is a long rant I’ve had about life and death. I’ve wanted it on the Internet. So that, ya know people can read it. But I also don’t want people to read it. Potential mental scarring, and all that.

So if you wanna get the rest of your Daily Tumblr Experience (tm), keep scrolling. But if you want to have a SUPER out-of-body experience, “Keep reading.”

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

So wait, this is it?

After you learn all the languages you know now, after you’re taught everything in school you remember, after you read all the books and hear all the stories...

This is it?

That’s everything? Your toolbox to brave the world. That’s all you get?

You’re gonna have all this until the day you die. You know that, right? This is pretty much all you’re ever gonna get, forever.

You know you only have one life. After this, you can’t try again. You get no second chances.

But I want more! Why can’t get more? Why does learning new things only get harder with age?

You’re never gonna truly experience anything besides what you’re currently experiencing. Sure, you can imagine, and you can daydream and come up with full-on stories in your mind, but truth is, you’re never actually gonna leave your current story. It’s all been one straight line.

We are trapped in the mortal realm. If you were born a man, and you wanted to be a woman, then even through all the wishes in the world, you could never truly become a woman. Baseless wishes do nothing, after all. But you can get close. If you see a man trying as hard as they can to be a woman, because they really wanted to, and they did a really good job, then please cheer them on. They are doing as close an act to defying the impossible.

So wishes don’t work. You will never experience anything outside of the life you’re currently living. So make the most of it. And embrace new actions taken. Because they do what wishes can’t: they work.

This all still feels so empty. I’m so lost. It feels so bleak, and it’s cold and dark down here. I’m currently getting therapy, but I want happiness. Happiness that lasts. Like, an hour.

Can anything solve this? Like, death anxiety. Can anything fix death anxiety? Because it’s a really shitty thing to be afraid of. It’s a phobia that, by definition, is chronic. If you’re afraid of death, and you’re eventually gonna die, then you’ll be panicking your whole life.

That seems like a really shitty way to live life. I don’t want to live like that! Please! I want to be liberated from my chronic anxiety! I don’t want to die!

How did you discover this? Do you know me? Did you find this? Did I show you this? Or did you not discover this? Will this be forgotten about, buried under all the other posts on this platform? Every time I make a new post, am I burying this one a foot deeper? Will no mortal eyes ever gaze upon this post ever again?

And this all came with no warning! Back on my main blog, I’ve posted nothing about my recent thanatophobia! Okay, well maybe I posted something about anxiety and stuff like that, but nothing like this. I’m scared!

I really hope I don’t delete this. There’s a really good chance I won’t. I want this to be out in the world. If only for a moment, I want this post to breathe.

When Tumblr shuts down, even if it’s after my lifetime, this post will go with it. And when the universe dies in a trillion years, everything will go with it. Why did some astronomist figure that out? How much alcohol do they drink?

It is Friday, June 12th, 2020. I dunno why I date things. I hope some day in the future, I can come back to old stuff and know exactly when I brought it into existence. Or maybe dating things is for satisfaction in the moment. Maybe I date things to look at it over time while I can still constantly see it: two days, three days, two weeks, three months, a year. A year? Wow, that’s a long time! And what about decades-old things? Centuries-old? Nah, I won’t think about that. That’s outside of a human lifetime.

I don’t get why people have existential crises. Like, you’re worrying about how people will remember you after you’re gone? What’s the point in that? Do you have so much sympathy that you care about it miles over your own mortality? Also, you’d end up in a similar situation to thanatophobia! You’d end up constantly worry, with every waking moment, whether your actions are making an impact on the world. Like, what’s the point in that? Just live life!

Will I ever share this? I hope I do. In fact, I hope I share it to my main blog too. I hope I share it with one of those “Keep Reading” tags that I see elsewhere on Tumblr, when the person has a bunch to things or extra words that they wanna keep behind a wall of sorts so no one’s constantly terrorized by a wall of text. I hope I figure out how to do that in time.

Also, am I getting deja vu of this very moment? Like, I’m not even done writing all this! How am I remembering something that hasn’t even finished yet? Is my memory really that bad?

I’m worried my memory will be the bane of me. I’m worried that in the end, I’ll remember very little, because I know so much more, and I’ll regret remembering so little. That would be a horrible way to die. Regret? I don’t want to feel regret on my deathbed!

I’ve thought in the past that when I grow up, and I become rich enough to own things, then I should hire a transcriber to follow me around everywhere I go and transcribe everything I say. That way, every thing I say can be written down. All my information will be on paper. Nothing will be as short-lived as the wind that takes my words away. That way, there might be a chance that even some of the more elusive words I say, perhaps the most beautiful quotes I utter that are completely unfathomable today, can survive longer than me. So nothing is lost to time.

When I was five, I had a dream. Maybe it was a nightmare. Maybe I made a post about this already. If so, then that’s scary, because I don’t remember that. I don’t like not remembering things. But anyways, I had a dream. I was standing on top of a light pole. You know those white lamp poles in New York City? The ones that curve like a hook onto the road? Yeah, I was standing on top of one of those. Somehow. I dunno how it could have supported my weight. And there were three pigeons. Three New York pigeons. Pretty slim, not like the big meaty ones you find sometimes. And the pigeons on the light pole next to me. They were closer to the pole, and I was closer to the light. I know they were exactly three pigeons. Not so sure about their placement, actually. In fact, I’m not so sure about my age at the time. Anyways, the pigeons flew away. And I jumped. I jumped from the top of the light pole. And I hit the asphalt. And I woke up, probably in a cold sweat. My heart was beating really fast. I woke up immediate before I hit the asphalt. I had felt the wind whizzing by my face. So that was the whole dream. I was on a light pole, there were three pigeons, they flew away, I jumped off the light pole, died on impact with the road, and woke up immediately before the dying part.

I feel like it’s almost like a prophecy, that eventually, that’s how I’m gonna die. That’s the clip of how I died. That I would commit suicide from the top of a light pole. And I don’t want to die that way! I don’t want to commit suicide! Life is precious! I want to die of old age, not of my own doing, fulfilling some “prophecy” that I was never told in words! That would really suck. Then again, it’s probably never going to happen. With as outlandish a story as that, I’m probably never gonna die that way. That lifts my spirits.

I’m so glad I could eventually get all these things down somewhere. Especially the “dream at five years old” part. I’m sixteen years old. I had constantly worried about how I would eventually get these thoughts down on paper somewhere. Yeah, it had always been in the back of my head. All. This. Time. It sucks, but I think I finally got it done, I think.

I didn’t want to keep this to myself, or put it in a diary entry or anything like that, because I don’t believe in privacy. Yeah sure, there are some things you keep to yourself, touchy subjects like masturbation, and if you’re lucky, you can go your whole life without a secret being told, and it dies with you on your deathbed. But I personally believe those should only be the rare cases. At least, they should. Because I’ve been growing up in a world full of information. All of human knowledge is at my fingertips, and it’s called “Wikipedia”. But still, it’s had I’d say a pretty big impact on how I view information. Information should just be out there in the world, ready for anyone to read and critique. So I’d never own a diary. To have that much information and to know no one else is looking at it would be painful. And I know that sounds counterintuitive, like how can you be scared when people are being not nosy, but that’s just my worldview. Yours can be different.

Well that’s our show for tonight, folks! Stay safe out there. And remember, you only live once.

[juju-on-that-yeet]

It Takes a Village, Chapter 12/12

The spell that turned Yandere into a baby finally wears off, and Yandere gets to find out what he was like a baby from the other egos.

At long last, it is done ;w; I hope you’ve enjoyed this story!

Tags: @tired-eldritchhorror​ @peribloke​ (ask to be tagged in future works!)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11

Read on AO3!

Enjoy!

~

When Yandere finally turns back to normal, it happens just as suddenly as his first transformation. One moment Dr. Iplier looks away from baby Yandere to get one of his toys, and in the next turns to see full-grown Yandere standing there.

Everyone is relieved to have Yandere back to normal; it took so long that everyone had been a little worried that Yandere would be a baby forever. They’re glad Yandere can take care of himself again, and Yandere’s loved ones are relieved that their relationship with him can go back to normal. Chrome and Wilford are happy to have a friend and brother they can actually talk to again, Dr. Iplier is happy to have a self-sufficient son again, and Dark is glad to finally have his boyfriend back after all those weeks without.

Yandere, for his part, is happy to be normal. He doesn’t remember everything about being a baby, but he remembers bits and pieces. He recalls flashes of experience, sensation, memory. He wonders if this is how humans remember their childhoods; as quick snapshots in time. It’s these memories that lead him to egos he normally doesn’t talk to.

“Thank you for rescuing me before, Giniro-san,” Yandere tells Silver Shepherd one morning.

“Oh, n-no need to thank me, it’s what I do,” Silver stammers, though he can’t seem to help smiling. “How much do you remember?”

“Not a lot,” Yandere admits, “I remember being kidnapped, and I remember you finding me, and not really anything in between.” He pauses, thinks for another moment. “I remember flying, though!”

“Oh, yeah!” Silver laughs, “You really enjoyed that. Not many babies like being flown around as much as you did.”

“Yeah, that was fun!” Yandere giggles, “Although, I was wondering…whatever happened to the guys who kidnapped me?”

“Well, uh, Dark and Wilford…took care of them.”

Yandere grins brightly.

“Good! Saves me some trouble.”

“Y-Yeah…” Silver mumbles. He almost seems relieved when Yandere leaves not long after.

Another time, Yandere walks by Ed’s nursery and happens to encounter Marie again. He remembers really disliking her before, but now that he’s normal, the whole situation feels more funny than anything.

“Hi, Marie!” he says to her, and she jumps, surprised.

“How do you know my name!?” Marie yells.

“Because we’ve met before!” Yandere laughs, “Don’t you remember?”

Marie glares at Yandere cautiously.

“I don’t know you,” she insists, “Stop being weird or I’m gonna call Mr. Edgar!”

“Remember that baby Ed babysat a while ago? The one who you made cry?” Yandere asks. “Well, that was me!”

Marie blinks. Yandere can almost see the gears turning in her head; how she’s reconciling this impossible information with the fact that, yes, this person does look a lot like that baby.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Marie cries, “You’re a baby!”

“Not anymore.”

Marie looks completely bewildered. She turns and runs off.

“Mr. Edgar! Yan turned into a grown-up!! Why can’t I turn into a grown-up!?”

“Dang nabbit, Marie–”

Yandere just laughs and continues on his way.

Later, he spies a familiar squirrel in the hallway. The squirrel seems to remember him, too, and approaches him cautiously.

“Hey there!” Yandere coos, kneeling down to the squirrel, “What was your name again? Allen, Evan–”

“Everett, actually,” says a voice, good-humored, “Close, though.”

Yandere looks up to see King of the Squirrels approaching him, and grins sheepishly.

“It’s pretty hard to remember specific details,” he mumbles.

“Hey, don’t feel bad!” King laughs, “Everett doesn’t seem to mind.”

He doesn’t; the squirrel is right in front of Yandere now, sniffing his outstretched hand.

“You can pet him whenever you want,” King says, “As long as Everett’s alright with it.”

“Really?” Yandere asks, eagerness shining in his eyes.

“Of course,” King replies, “These guys don’t just let anyone pet them; I think I can trust you with him.”

Yandere looks at Everett, and scratches behind his ear with one finger. Everett leans into the touch and squeaks happily. He’s not the Shiba Inu that Yandere has begged Dark for a hundred times over, but he’s still pretty cute.

“Arigato,” Yandere says to King, smiling gently at Everett.

Yandere later finds himself being followed by the Jims, who are apparently interested in filming a conclusion to the documentary Yandere vaguely remembers being a part of. Not so interested that they’ll approach Yandere directly, though.

“Stabby Jim appears to be grown again,” RJ stage-whispers as he and CJ trail several yards behind Yandere down the hall, “We must be careful, Jim! We don’t want to end up on the wrong end of his stabby!”

“You mean my katana?” Yandere asks pleasantly, not turning around or changing his pace.

RJ yelps, and CJ manages an involuntary squeak.

“Run Jim!!” cries RJ, and the pair scramble away as Yandere laughs.

He does get a quiet moment with the Host later, however, reminiscing on being in the room for his bandage changes and interrupting his tender moments with Dr. Iplier.

“I definitely remember getting jealous of you,” Yandere giggles to him from a chair in the library. “I wanted Shishi all to myself.”

“The Host recalls,” Host replies over a cup of tea, smiling gently, “Apparently the fact that Dr. Iplier spent nearly every other waking moment with you wasn’t enough.”

Yandere shrugs amicably, then pauses to think.

“You know,” he says, “Even though I remember all those times when you were in the clinic getting your eyes cleaned, I can’t remember what your eyes look like. I must have seen them…”

“The Host considers it a stroke of luck,” Host says quietly, sipping his tea.

Most interesting to Yandere, though, is talking to his loved ones about the experience, recalling how they reacted, and occasionally scolding them about it. They’re the ones he goes to first, and goes to most often, to learn about what happened when he was a baby and get context for the memory fragments in his mind.

“You were a pretty terrible babysitter, onii-san,” Yandere tells Wilford one morning as they’re eating breakfast together in one of the communal rooms. Yandere’s memories of Wilford’s misadventures in babysitting are predictably fuzzy, but he’s been told what happened enough times already by others. In response to Yandere’s words, Wilford gasps dramatically through a mouthful of bacon.

“Slander!” Wilford cries. “I was a great babysitter!”

“You lost me twice.”

“Excuse you, I lost you once! I…outsourced you the other time.”

Yandere snorts, almost choking on the toast he’s eating.

“Is that what you’re calling it? I think Yami and Shishi would call it “dumping me on someone else” and “shirking responsibility.”” Yandere makes light air quotes with the hand not holding his toast.

“Yanny, my boy,” Wilford says, “I haven’t cared what Dark and Doc think about my behavior since…hmm…” He wiggles his moustache in thought. “About 1976. Give or take ten years.”

“Shishi didn’t even exist yet back then, Wil.”

“See, you get it!”

Yandere laughs again, shaking his head. He knows how to get a reaction out of Wilford, though, and slides back in his chair with mock despair.

“Oh, but nii-chan, did you really not love me enough to watch over me?” Yandere asks, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Did you really dislike me so much that you’d give me to someone else?”

“Hey now…” Wilford starts, bewildered by Yandere’s sudden mood change.

“I’m so crushed…” Yandere moans, sliding all the way off his chair and slumping over to Wilford, “My nii-chan doesn’t love me, he doesn’t want to deal with me anymore…”

“Yan–”

“What am I gonna doooooooo??” Yandere wails, throwing himself across Wilford’s lap, face-down. “How am I gonna survive without my nii-chan??”

“Oh, calm down,” Wilford huffs, rolling his eyes, “Look at you, so dramatic.”

“Well,” Yandere says, craning his head up to look at Wilford, “I learned from the best!”

Wilford bursts into laughter at that, guffawing uproariously as Yandere drops the act, laughing along with him as he gets up from Wilford’s lap.

“To tell you the truth, kiddo,” Wilford says, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, “You were just too much trouble as a baby. Adorable, of course, but you got into everything! And you just can’t reason with a baby.” He smirks. “But you know, you’re just as difficult grown up, aren’t you?”

“Niiiiiii-chaaaaaaaaan…” Yandere whines, slumping against Wilford’s shoulder.

“Exactly what I mean,” Wilford insists, “You troublesome little rapscallion!”

Before Yandere can whine again, Wilford stands from his chair and grabs Yandere in one swift motion, scooping him up and twirling him around. Yandere shrieks and laughs as he’s spun around, so fast that he’s still dizzy when Wilford stops.

“If I’m still troublesome,” Yandere says, “Am I still adorable, too?”

“Of course!” Wilford laughs, planting a kiss to Yandere’s forehead. He pauses. “I suppose what I mean to say it that you haven’t changed at all, except we don’t have to be watching you all day anymore.”

“What “we”?” Yandere giggles, “You pretty much admitted that you didn’t do much watching.”

“Alright, you ungrateful little–”

Wilford spends the rest of the morning alternating between tickling Yandere relentlessly and squeezing him in tight bear hugs and swinging him around. Yandere lets him, laughing and shouting and putting up token protests all the while. Wilford does eventually let him go, kissing his forehead again before poofing away to his studio.

Yandere talks to Chrome, too, as the pair are sitting in the control room playing Mario Kart.

“I’m getting deja vu,” Yandere says as he plays, struggling to get Princess Peach back into second place against the high-leveled NPCs. “Did you play Mario Kart with me when I was a baby?”

“Sort of,” Chrome answers, in first place by a wide margin. “I let you sit with me and watch me play a few times. I didn’t watch you that much, though, it was mostly Dr. Iplier.”

“Makes sense,” Yandere hums. He glances over at Chrome with a grin. “Was I at least fun to babysit?”

“I hate babies,” Chrome says, deadpan, “You were…tolerable.”

“You wound me, Aka-kun,” Yandere says, feigning sadness, “Everyone else says I was adorable.”

“That’s because they’re human adults, who are predisposed to finding babies endearing. I’m not a human, and I have no reason to find babies cute.”

“I’m pretty sure Kiiro-kun thought I was cute.”

“That’s because Oliver’s weird.”

Yandere laughs, then groans in frustration as Princess Peach drives over the finish line at fourth place. Chrome smirks, and Yandere whacks him in the arm with his controller.

“Don’t do that,” Chrome says, mildly annoyed, “You’re gonna break the controller.”

“You’re not gonna scold me for hitting you?”

“I don’t think I need to explain that hitting people is rude, but if you really want me to…”

“Alright, baka!” Yandere laughs, leaning against Chrome as he goes through the game’s menus to start another race. Yandere pauses. “You’re being pretty light on your teasing today. What’s up with that?”

Chrome stops pressing buttons on his controller, and gets an odd look on his face. He knows what he wants to say, but isn’t sure how best to say it.

“I guess…I don’t know,” he mutters, “Remembering when you were a baby, it’s just…do you remember anything else about me from being a baby? Aside from me playing Mario Kart?”

Yandere considers. He does remember something else, but only vaguely. He has an undefined memory of being held against Chrome’s red t-shirt, of crying in his grasp, but he can’t remember what the tears were for.

“Kinda,” Yandere says, “I remember at one point you were holding me while I was crying.”

“But you don’t remember why you were crying?”

“No…why was I crying?”

“I…yelled at you for trying to touch something dangerous.” Chrome shrugs, but the movement seems tight. “I just feel sort of bad, I guess.”

“Well,” Yandere says, “You were trying to stop me from getting hurt, right? You don’t have to feel bad about that!”

“Yeah,” Chrome mutters grudgingly, “I guess so.”

Yandere suspects there might be a bit more to the story, but he knows that Chrome is unlikely to tell him anything if he presses the issue. So he lets the subject drop, but stays leaned against Chrome’s side until his body relaxes. Yandere soon forgets the odd moment as he wins the next couple races, and he and Chrome get back into their friendly jeering and bantering.

Yandere talks to Dark, too; sits on his desk and asks him about how he took the situation, ignores him when he asks Yandere to get off his desk. He doesn’t seem too annoyed about it, though, because he answers Yandere’s question anyway.

“I’ll admit it was strange,” Dark says, “I was never quite sure what to do with you whenever I had to look after you.” He grins. “You still seemed to like me a lot, though.”

“How could I ever not like you?” Yandere asks, leaning towards Dark to kiss him. Dark does more than let him; he moves into the kiss, hand creeping across the desk towards Yandere’s thigh. Yandere pretends not to notice. “I remember being really happy whenever you gave me any attention. I guess it was like…” He thinks. “You know when little kids get crushes on, like, their teacher or their babysitter? Even though they don’t know what romance and stuff are yet? They just think they’re nice and want their attention all the time? That’s kind of how it felt.” Dark chuckles a little at that.

“That makes sense, I suppose,” he says, “I don’t normally like babies, but you were very cute.”

“Thanks~!” Yandere giggles. “So you kinda felt like I did, then?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a “crush.”” Dark looks away for a moment, awkward. “I didn’t feel anything stronger than fondness for you. You were a child, after all.” He smiles at Yandere. “I’ll admit I missed you a bit while you were transformed.”

“Really?” Yandere asks, putting his arms around Dark’s shoulders, “You missed me?” Yandere never passes up an opportunity to hear Dark talk about how much he loves him, and Dark’s smirk suggests he realizes that.

“Of course,” Dark insists, turning his head to kiss Yandere’s arm, “I missed having you around to talk to.”

““To talk to”? Is that all?” Yandere’s tone is playful.

“Oh, far from it,” Dark murmurs, lust creeping into his tone. “Would you like me to be blunt?” He finally moves the hand on his desk to touch Yandere’s thigh, the tips of his fingers just barely under his skirt. Yandere shivers with goosebumps and leans close to Dark.

“I’d like you to stop talking and show me what you mean,” Yandere whispers with a devilish grin.

That’s all the encouragement Dark needs to stand up out of his chair and push his hand all the way up Yandere’s skirt. His other hand goes to Yandere’s back to pull him close as he kisses him, going from Yandere’s mouth to his neck, biting and sucking.

“Yami, ah,” Yandere gasps, already overwhelmed and holding onto Dark’s shoulders for dear life, “Yami, slow down, ohh–”

At that, Dark does stop, but only to push Yandere down onto his desk with a hand spread over his chest, aura creeping up against Yandere’s clothes, chomping at the bit to pull them off.

“You asked me to show you what I meant,” Dark says, “And I intend to show you exactly how much I missed you.” He smirks again, but his eyes are more intense than before, his whole posture radiating power. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Yandere gazes up at him, slack-jawed and starry-eyed, still overwhelmed yet eager for more.

“Yes,” he gasps, “Show me, senpai.”

Yandere doesn’t leave Dark’s office for a long while, and when he finally does, he’s bruised and disheveled, lovestruck and humming to himself as he walks down the hall.

But out of everyone Yandere knows, he’s most curious to know what Dr. Iplier thought of his transformation, of having him as a baby. Dr. Iplier’s his dad, after all, and he already enjoys babying Yandere enough anyway. He’s getting a mild gash treated at the clinic when he asks about it.

“Hey Dad,” he says, “What was–ow–what was it like when I was a baby?”

Dr. Iplier isn’t stitching his arm; the cut isn’t severe enough to need it. He is sanitizing it though, and somehow Yandere still isn’t used to that particular stinging pain. Dr. Iplier continues to work on Yandere’s arm, thinking as he does.

“It was…interesting,” he says, then laughs a little at himself. “Descriptive, huh. But honestly, it was…really nice, in some ways. But different. But also not that different.” He grins, looking up from his work to meet Yandere’s eyes. “You still had your normal personality, that’s for sure.”

“Really?” Yandere asks, curious. Most people didn’t have much to say about what he was like as a baby, other than that he was cute. Now that someone’s going to tell him, he’s eager to know.

“Definitely,” Dr. Iplier answers him, holding the edges of Yandere’s cut together with one hand and putting a butterfly bandage over it with the other. “You were just as affectionate, always wanting to be held or hugged. God forbid I talked to anyone but you, you’d get so jealous!”

“I do kinda remember that,” Yandere admits with a sheepish grin. “I really hated it when you hugged or kissed the Host.”

“We could tell,” Dr. Iplier laughs, “You were a troublemaker, too, just like you are now.” He pauses. “Well, not quite as much. There wasn’t as much trouble you could get into as a baby.” His voice has gone wistful.

“What do you mean?” Yandere asks.

“I mean…” Dr. Iplier chews his lip for a moment, choosing his words. “You were too little to hold a sword, or spar in the dojo. And you were too little to want to go out at night and get into fights. You were too little to go out at night at all. You were perfectly happy to just stay here at home all day with me and the other egos. I never had to sew you up or give you blood transfusions, and I never had to worry that I might need to. You were…always safe.” He wipes away the last drops of blood from Yandere’s cut. “It was a relief to not have to worry about all that.”

“Dad…” Yandere mumbles, guilt sinking into his stomach. “I didn’t…I mean…” He looks away. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey now, don’t be upset,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, gentling taking Yandere’s chin in his hand and turning his head back to face him. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. And you know, there’s something I’m relieved about now that you’re back to normal.”

“What?” Yandere asks, still moping.

“You’re not as helpless as you were as a baby.” Dr. Iplier’s voice gets a little quieter. “Do you remember at all, when those guys kidnapped you and held you for ransom?”

“Yeah,” Yandere says, “Mostly when I first got taken and then when Giniro-san brought me home, not much in between.”

“Well, let me tell you,” Dr. Iplier says, “I was beside myself when I realized what had happened. I was a complete wreck. I was so terrified for you because I knew you were helpless. You were a baby; you couldn’t defend yourself or escape. There was a real chance I could lose you.” He manages a smile and cups Yandere’s face in his hands. “You may be a champ at getting into trouble, but you’re even better at getting yourself out of it. You’re so strong and resourceful, and I might worry about you, but I know you’ll always come home in one piece.”

Yandere smiles back, giggling as Dr. Iplier kisses his forehead.

“So you’d rather have me as a grown-up than as a baby?” Yandere asks.

“Yes,” Dr. Iplier replies, “But I wouldn’t be upset if this happened again. Then again…” He grins a particularly playful grin. “…You’ll always be my baby.”

“Daaaaaad,” Yandere groans, but he can’t help but laugh as Dr. Iplier kisses his forehead again, one, two, three times, before finally letting him go.

“Alright, I’ll quit embarrassing you,” Dr. Iplier chuckles, “You’re free to go, kid. Your arm’s all set for now.”

Yandere jumps off the examination table, but doesn’t leave right away. There’s another memory at the back of his mind that he’s curious about.

“Hey, Dad?” Yandere asks, “I have a weird question about when I was a baby.”

“What is it?” Dr. Iplier asks.

“Did you, um, ever…sing to me?”

Dr. Iplier’s face somehow both lights up and turns an embarrassed shade of pink in the same instant.

“You remember that, huh?” Dr. Iplier laughs a little. “I did, a few times. After that kidnapping ordeal, you kept waking up in the middle of the night crying, and it got harder and harder to console you. Finally I ran out of ideas and sang to you one night, and it cheered you up and put you right to sleep.” He smiles fondly at the memory. “I ended up singing to you a few more times after that when you cried, and you seemed to really love it.”

“I remember being held and hearing your voice,” Yandere says, blushing to match Dr. Iplier’s still-pink cheeks. “I only kinda remember the tune, it was like…”

He half-hums an incomplete melody, straining hard to recall it. But the notes he does remember ring true, and Dr. Iplier joins in, recreating the song.

“Oh!” Yandere gasps as Dr. Iplier hums. “It was “What a Wonderful World,” wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” Dr. Iplier replies, “I didn’t expect you to remember it that well, I’m kind of impressed.”

“I really don’t remember it that great,” Yandere says. He tilts his head. “Maybe you cooould…sing it again sometime?”

“Ah, I don’t…” Dr. Iplier ducks his head, embarrassed. “I’m no singer, you don’t need to hear me singing again.”

“But Dad,” Yandere whines, pouting, “You sang for me before and I liked it!”

“You were a baby. I knew you were gonna like it no matter how it sounded. I’d feel awkward doing it again.”

“Daaaaaaaad…” Yandere sighs, flouncing to Dr. Iplier and leaning into his side, “You don’t have to sing right this second, just, eventually! Please?”

“Yan…”

Yandere lays his head on Dr. Iplier’s shoulder and looks up at him with the biggest, saddest eyes he can muster.

“Please, Papa? For me?”

Dr. Iplier sputters, and it takes all of Yandere’s willpower to keep a straight face.

“Alright, alright, I’ll sing for you again eventually,” Dr. Iplier sighs, “Happy?”

“Yep!” Yandere perks up immediately, back to his sunny, happy self.

“You’re a spoiled brat, you know that?”

“Whose fault is that?”

“That didn’t sound like a denial.” Dr. Iplier ruffles Yandere’s hair. “If I’m gonna embarrass myself for you, then I expect something in return.”

“What?” Yandere asks, intrigued. Dr. Iplier grins.

“You have to let me show you all the photos I took of you as a baby, and deal with all my gushing.”

Yandere laughs, a bit awkward but mostly genuine.

“I guess that’s fair. Bring on the baby pics, then!”

That’s how Yandere ends up sitting next to Dr. Iplier on his bed, scrolling through photos on Dr. Iplier’s phone. It’s strange for Yandere to see himself as a baby, but he has to admit he was as cute as everyone says. He’s surprised the spell that transformed him took away his hair dye in the process, but it doesn’t look too bad in the photos. There’s photos of him playing, eating, sleeping, and wearing many, many different outfits (“Why did you buy so many? It’s not like I’ll ever be able to wear them again.” “I know, but look how cute you are in this one! And this one, and this one…”). Most interesting are the ones featuring Yandere with the other egos. There’s RJ and CJ holding microphones up to him, Silver hovering in the air with Yandere held securely in his arms, Yandere toddling after Marie, Yandere surrounded by curious squirrels, Host reading him a book, and even a series of photos showing Bing and Bop trying to teach Yandere how to skateboard.

Naturally, Yandere ends up with a few favorites: The one of him sitting in Chrome’s lap while Chrome plays Mario Kart (“You were totally enthralled by the screen, it was pretty funny.”), the one of Wilford holding him up in the air (“He actually tossed you a few times, almost gave me a heart attack! You didn’t mind, though.”), and the slightly blurred one of Dark kissing his cheek, clearly taken from afar (“I don’t know how he didn’t catch me taking this, but it was worth the risk.”).

But then they come to one of the last photos taken, one of the only ones that appears to have been taken at night, and one of the few that feature Dr. Iplier. It’s of Dr. Iplier standing before a crib, cradling a sleeping Yandere in his arms. Yandere’s sucking his thumb in his sleep, and as cute as it is, Yandere’s favorite part of the image is the serene, adoring smile on Dr. Iplier’s face. One of his hands is tucking a dark curl of hair behind Yandere’s ear. Yandere can’t help but recall every time he ever felt like a burden, like there was no way Dr. Iplier could care about him, and how it compares to the simple sweetness in this photo. Does Dr. Iplier always look at him like that, and Yandere just doesn’t notice?

“You like this one?” Dr. Iplier asks, humor in his voice, breaking Yandere out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “It’s…really nice.” He pauses. “But wait, who took it since you didn’t?”

“Host did, he was with us that night.” Dr. Iplier’s expression softens as he remembers. “He took this of me while I was putting you to bed. I didn’t know until he showed it to me afterwards.”

“Host took this photo?”

“Yes…?”

“He took this really nicely framed and well-timed photo??”

“Yes, Yan, what are you–”

“How???”

A long pause. Eventually, Dr. Iplier shoves Yandere playfully and Yandere breaks into laughter.

“Don’t be rude!” Dr. Iplier shouts through his own laughter. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he used his narration to make sure he got the best photo possible. I’m glad he did it, though.”

“Me too,” Yandere says, smiling big.

As sweet and fun as it seemed to be for the other egos, Yandere is glad that he’s not s baby anymore. He supposes he’s glad it happened, though, if for nothing else than the memories. But also for the knowledge that the other egos still protected him and cared for him at his most helpless, and, if he’s honest, his most useless. After all, what’s more useless than an infant who can barely even walk or talk? Yet the other egos still liked him, still wanted him around, and his loved ones still loved him and cared for him. Chrome still played Mario Kart with him, Wilford still scooped him up and spun him around, Dark still kissed him, and Dr. Iplier still comforted him when he cried.

Even if the other memories of being a baby eventually disappear, Yandere hopes that the memory of the unconditional love he received will lift his spirits forever.